Very Bad Things
by Kryss LaBryn
Summary: It's music camp. They're seventeen. And they've just tried to summon the Opera Ghost... What could POSSIBLY go wrong? The odd rude word in later chapters, all justified. ;-P
1. Hello

_Very Bad Things  
_

By Kryss LaBryn

_A/N: This is not a typical "music camp" phic, in which our leads are modern teenage versions of the famous characters, trying to sort out their relationships against a backdrop of councilors and cabins. Instead (although it was in some way inspired by a certain class of these types of phics), it is a somewhat more, er, traditional look at what is likely to happen when you take a bunch of teenage girls, stick them in a camp in the middle of the woods, and mix in a long-dead stalker with a fetish for blonde singers. XD Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree!_

_A very special thank you to my beta, Biskuits, who helped to keep my American Teenager Slang correct. Surprisingly enough, Canadian Teenspeak from the Eighties isn't quite the same! ;-) Thanks, Biskuits! :-D  
_

_

* * *

_Chapter One: Hello

"Music camp. You're kidding me." Kir folded her arms in defiance.

"Not just music camp. _Singing_ camp!" Her mother's enthusiasm grated.

"I can_not_ believe you signed me up for singing camp."

"You _love_ to sing!" The older woman's face began to take on a slightly tremble-y aspect that Kir immediately identified as an incipient guilt attack. "You sing all the time!"

"Yeah, Mom, I do. _In the shower_, Mom. Jesus. You _know_ I suck."

"Well, then, this is the perfect opportunity to improve. Come on, Kirsten! It'll be fun. You'll see."

"I _won't_ see because I'm not going."

Her mother's mouth set in a thin, firm line. "You _are_ going, if I have to tie you up and toss you from the moving car. Your father and I spent too much money to get you a place for you to not go. _Non-refundable_, I might add. And I am _not_ going to give up three weeks of peace and quiet!"

"_Three weeks?_ Are you _insane_? There's _no_ _way_…"

* * *

_But, of course,_ Kir thought grumpily, staring at the bloody trees brushing the car's side windows, _She __is__ insane. And __I'm__ a minor. It's not __fair__!_

Fair or not, though, Kir was bouncing along a back road in the middle of nowhere while her idiot mother happily burbled away about all the fun she was going to have and all the friends she was going to make. Kir had almost succeeded in tuning her out when she saw something that made her sit up with a little shriek. "_Mom_! Stop the car. I'm not going."

Her mother's apparent good mood instantly vanished. "We've been over this, Kirsten," she said flatly.

"But _Mom_! Look! The _power lines_ ended! We're, like, _miles_ away in the middle of the woods and there's not even any _electricity_? What the hell, Mom?"

"You'll be fine. You don't need all that electronic stuff, anyways. I told you not to pack it, didn't I? Now, don't worry. The cabins all have oil lamps; it's not like you've got to use candles—"

"_You knew? _You _knew_ that there wasn't any electricity and you didn't tell me. I can't _believe_ this." Kir crossed her arms and glared out the window in irritation. No, she was beyond irritated. She was absolutely. Pissed. Off. "At the very least I could have stocked up on batteries for my iPod."

"You're going to singing camp," her mother blithely burbled. "What would you need your iPod for?"

* * *

Kir glanced about as her mother wandered off to talk to someone or other. She supposed that the cottages might not be too bad; the few she could glimpse through the giant trees that absolutely surrounded the place seemed to have sort of a Swiss chalet thing going on, instead of the backwoods inbred hillbilly look she was fearing. A bigger place, probably like the dining hall or something, she reasoned, stood at the other end of the flat graveled area that was probably supposed to be a parking lot. A few other kids milled about the open doors, all of them girls, so far as she could tell, and most of them looking as uncertain as she.

"Hi!" A bubbly blonde bounced up and smiled perkily. "I'm Megan! You look pretty lost. First time?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. I'm Kir." She pushed her hair back and gave a little wave.

"'Kir'? Oh em gee, that is sooo cute! Almost like Captain Kirk, right? My brother is a huge geek," she confided, and giggled. Kir kind of wanted to beat her head in with her shoe. "Can I call you 'Captain'?"

"It's short for 'Kirsten', actually, and I'd kind of prefer you didn't…"

Unfortunately, Megan didn't seem to hear. "Hey! Susanne!" She waved to another girl, a leggy redhead, who nodded vaguely and headed their way. "Susanne, this is _The Captain_." She giggled again.

"Hi. I'm Kirsten. Um."

The redhead seemed bored. "Yeah. Hi. Hey, you see where Randy went?"

Megan made a face. "Probably down at the pit again. What do you want _her_ for?"

"She's got my music, I think. Want to come?"

"Ugh. No thank you."

Susanne pointed her chin at Kir. "How 'bout you?"

Kir glanced at Megan's pout and slowly nodded. "Sure, I guess. Yeah."

"Fine. Tee tee wuy ell, _Captain_." With a twirl Megan stalked away.

"Jesus," muttered Susanne. "Drama queen."

"She's not, uh, your friend, then?" Kir was curious despite herself.

"Her? God, no. She's a total backstabbing bitch. She only gets the leads because she bawls if she doesn't, and drives everyone nuts." Susanne paused. "Why'd she start calling you 'Captain'?"

"I'm Kir. You know. Like Captain Kirk. Ahahaha."

"Aw. Jesus. And she's got that Spock fixation…" Susanne turned and headed for a path through the trees. Kir followed, confused.

"She does? She said her _brother_ was the geek…"

"No, her brother plays video games about shooting things and football. She, however, spent most of last year boring us with her stupid Spock fixation, and her stupid K/S theories."

"'Kay ess'? I'm sort of scared to ask…"

Susanne grunted. "You should be. It's nerd shorthand for all the ways Kirk and Spock are actually screwing each other."

"You're kidding."

"I wish. You're just lucky she fixated on that before she clued in to your name. This year it's all 'The Phantom' this and 'Emmy' that…"

"The who?"

"The Phantom of the Opera. You know? Big record-breaking musical? Made that totally hot movie with that totally hot guy, and oh em gee, isn't Christine a stupid cow whore for leaving with the fop instead of the poor Phantom?" She snorted.

"Oh! Um… Oh yeah, I think I saw that. Came out a few years ago? You're, um, a fan?"

"Me? No. Come on. They've got some gorgeous guy playing the 'hideously deformed' guy, and the whole thing takes place in an opera and none of them can act, let alone sing worth a damn? As if."

"I thought the music was supposed to be pretty good, though…"

"The music is trite pablum ripped off by a wannabe rocker from artists with more talent in their decomposing pinkies than he'll ever dream of having in his life. Trust me. It's crap."

"Hey, Su. Dissing the great ALW again?" A pretty brunette with a friendly smile came up the path towards them.

"Hey, Sarah. You know it." Susanne grinned. "Seen Randy?"

"Yeah, she's just back at the pit." Sarah waved vaguely behind her. "Who's this?"

"This is Kir. Short for Kirsten."

"Kirsten? Really? We'll have to hide her from Meg, then."

"Too late. She's calling her 'the Captain'."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "The _Captain_? Why?"

"You know… Kir… Captain Kirk…" Kir mumbled, embarrassed.

"Wow. That's reaching a bit, isn't it? Still…" Sarah grinned at her in commiseration. "At least she isn't calling you 'Christine'."

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't end well," agreed Susanne.

"Well, the stunningly-appointed washroom calls. See you later, guys." And with a wave, Sarah continued up the path.

Kir grinned at her retreating back, then turned and trotted to catch up to Susanne. "So I'm guessing she's not a fan either?"

"Not of Megan and not of ALW."

"ALW?"

"Andrew fucking Lloyd-Webber. Lord Andy. The Great One, whose feet we are not worthy to kiss. The talentless hack who composed the music for Phantom. And Starlight Express and Jesus Christ Superstar and Cats…"

"I rather liked Cats…" Kir mumbled.

"Yeah? What was your favorite part?"

"Well, I loved the lyrics, some of them were very clever… And you have to admit, 'Memory' is lovely."

Susanne chuckled. "See? You've got taste. You'll do fine with us."

"I don't understand…"

"The lyrics were poems written by "Old Possum" himself, the late great T.S. Elliot. And 'Memory', the tune, that is, is actually a great old piece called 'Bolero'. You know, by Ravel. And it _is_ lovely. Unfortunately, it seems the great Lord Andy actually ripped off most of his music from other composers. Well, at least, all the ones he turned into popular songs." She walked on a few paces before adding, "Really, it's only Megan and her clique who like his stuff. The rest of us can take it or leave it. It's probably not entirely coincidence that it's the rest of us who can actually sing…"

"I can't believe he'd rip off all his stuff! How would he get away with it? Wouldn't someone notice?"

Susanne glanced at her. "Of course people have noticed. But how are you going to shout down his legions of fans? And the people he's ripping off are all dead. It's all public-domain stuff. Who's gonna sue?"

Kir was silent a bit longer, mulling it over, until the path opened up and she found herself in a small clearing. Logs circled a fire pit, already laid with wood. A few more girls chatted on one of the logs, but Susanne approached another girl, with mousy hair and glasses, who sat alone, bent over a book.

"Hey, Randy," she said cheerily. "Whaddaya say? _Faust_ again?"

"Of course _Faust_," said Randy mildly, closing her book around her finger as she looked up. "What would music camp be without _Faust_? Who's this?"

"I'm Kir. Um, Kirsten."

"Hi. How do you feel about Lord Andy?"

"Um. Well, I saw the Phantom movie a few years ago, but I don't really remember it."

"Friend!" Randy opened her arms wide and beamed. "Welcome to the ranks of the rational! What's your tessitura?"

Kir stared blankly for a moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Randy grinned. "'How low can you go?' I'm a contralto, Su's a soubrette, what're you?"

"Um… you mean, like, a soprano or whatever?"

"More or less…" Randy's smile took on a forced aspect.

"Well, mostly I'm crap. Mum sent me here 'cause I like to sing, but I'm no good at it."

Randy and Susanne stared a moment, before Randy's face broke out into another huge grin. "_Friend_!" She threw her arms wide again. "Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh, callay! And thank god, someone who knows their limits. Rock on, Kir!"

"Um…"

"Far too often," Susanne said with a grin, "We, um, experience campers with no experience, shall we say."

"That is to say," added Randy, "Those who are confident in their abilities despite all evidence to the contrary."

"In other words, kids who can't sing worth a damn?" grinned Kir.

"But who are positive that it's only a matter of time before the great Lord Andy discovers them, yes," finished Randy. "Actually, looking at some of his casting choices, their hopes may not be entirely in vain…" She paused. "Do you hear a horn?"

Kir blanched. "Oh man, my mom! I totally forgot. She's still got all my stuff in the car!" She spun to dash back up the path when Susanne grabbed her.

"Not that way, this way. There's a shortcut straight there." She pointed to a narrow but beaten path to the side of the clearing. "Take you straight there."

"Watch out for Jabberwockies!" shouted Randy behind her, glee in her voice. "And phanbrats!"

* * *

Sooner than she expected, Kir burst past a last bush and into the parking area. Sure enough, her mom was leaning through the car window, honking, much to Kir's irritation. Her stuff was already unpacked a short way away.

"_Mom_! Mom, I'm here. Stop honking," she panted as she jogged up, embarrassed.

Her mother looked annoyed. "Honestly, Kirsten, why did you run off like that? I've been waiting for you for the better part of twenty minutes!"

"Sorry, Mom. I was, uh, I went for a walk with one of the girls…"

Instantly, her mom brightened. "Really, honey? That's wonderful! See? I told you you'd make friends!"

"Yeah, I guess. Um. So anyways, it looks like all my stuff's out, so…"

"Yes, we unpacked it all. You didn't think I was going to leave without saying goodbye, though, do you? Come here and give your mother a hug!"

_Jesus_. "'We'?" asked Kir as she submitted to the maternal embrace.

"Yes! Your bunkmate helped me. Where'd she go? Megan? I want to introduce you to my daughter."

"Right here!" Megan bounced up. "We've met! Hi again, Captain!"

"'Captain'?" Her mother seemed amused. "What a wonderful music camp nickname! Are you going to be 'Tennille', then?"

Both teens stared blankly at her for a moment, before Megan turned back to Kir. "You get to share a cabin with me and Melanie and Triffy! Isn't it going to be fun?"

"Yes!" Kir chirped back. "We can braid each other's hair and tell stories about boys and show each other pictures of our ponies!" Unfortunately her sarcasm seemed to be completely lost.

"Well! It certainly sounds like you two will have fun! Be good, now, honey, and have fun, and I'll see you in three weeks at the concert!"

"'_Concert'_? What concert?" But her mom was already climbing into the car, and with a final wave and a "Bye, honey! Be good!" she was off.

"What concert?" Kir asked Megan.

"Oh, you know, the recital we all give at the end. Never mind all that," Megan tucked her arm through Kir's and began to lead her away as she looked helplessly back at her bags. "Never mind them; we'll come back for them later. Let me show you our cabin! So tell me," and she gave Kir a little tug to keep her moving, "What color is _your_ pony..?"

* * *

_A/N: I do have to thank Lord Andy's music for introducing me to Phantom, because without those opening chords of the overture I would never have discovered the book. Without the book, I would have missed out on the first (and so far, one of the very few) fictional characters I ever really identified with. Without Leroux, I would also have never gone looking for a recording of Gounod's Faust, which in turn led me to the world of opera. So a sincere thank you for that, Lord Andy!_

_I do remain fond of several of his songs (and have even been known to hum them on occasion), but "Bolero" does share a certain similarity with "Memory". You might also be interested in listening to "Rosemary," by Frank Loesser, and Mendelssohn's "Violin Concerto". You know. Just'ta. ;-)_

_Next chapter should be up in a week! Please Read and Review!­_


	2. Bring Me To Life

_A/N: Thanks again to Biskuits for her help with modern teen slang! Go check out her DeviantArt page for some awesome Phantomy goodness (and our evil collaberation from HELL!! ("Of Stupid Quips and Swivel Hips") XD) at http: / / biskuits. deviantart. com (minus spaces, of course); and thank you to everyone who reviewed! Next chapter next week!_

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Chapter Two: Bring Me To Life

"…his _voice_…"

"Oh em gee, I _love_ his voice! It's so… so _raw_ and _passionate_!"

"You know, my Mum took me to see the musical—like, the stage show? –last year, and his voice was totally different. Like, it was all… _operatic_ and stuff."

"Ugh."

"Ew… _Operatic_?"

Triffy nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I know. Like, totally. And they didn't even _have_ the sword fight. And the Phantom was, like, all old and gross and stuff…"

Megan nodded knowingly. "Yeah, they had to make his makeup, like, really gross so you can see it all the way in the cheap seats. But no one can _act_ through all that makeup, so they made it much more realistic for the movie."

Melanie grimaced. "Yeah, I mean, we're much more used to seeing gross stuff nowadays because of the Internet and stuff. But, like, back then, he _totally_ would have been shunned."

Kir rolled her eyes and snuggled further into her sleeping bag, trying to tune out the idiocy of the surrounding conversation, but sometimes she just couldn't resist. She was finding herself drawn in against her will.

"Yeah, like _John Merrik_ was totally shunned…" she muttered to herself, quietly she thought, but Melanie, in the next bunk, heard her.

"John _who_?"

"Merrik. You know. The Elephant Man? It's, like, my Mom's favorite movie." The others rolled their eyes in turn. "And he was, like, way worse than even the stage Phantom. Like, his whole head and face and everything was all, like, lumpy and gross, and his teeth were sticking out everywhere, and his right arm was totally so lumpy and swollen he couldn't even use it. And when the doctor found him and took him in, he was working in a freak show, but, like, he had had a regular job before that."

"Freak shows were totally mean and exploitive," Triffy interrupted, looking angry.

"Yeah," Megan added. "They'd, like, totally lock them up in these cages and beat them and starve them—"

"Actually," Kir said, sitting up straighter, "They weren't. They were actually paid very well, and some of them got very famous. A lot of them, like, even had postcards made that they'd sell, you know, with pictures of them on them. And they had their shtick, you know, their angle. Like, Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy, and John being the Elephant Man, and stuff. Like, if they'd just said, "And here we've got a really hairy guy," no one would pay to see him, right? 'Cause, like, _everyone_ knows _someone_ really hairy. But The Dog-Faced Boy? That's a draw. And he'd ham it up, too, you know, like barking and stuff…"

"How do you know so much about _freaks_?" Megan looked supremely bitchy.

"I did a paper on it a few years ago." Actually, she'd had the 'freak shows were exploitive' argument with her mother herself, and finally did some research to arm herself. She'd been surprised to learn that much of what her mother had told her was correct; she was even more surprised to learn that there were _still_ touring freak shows, right here in America. She wasn't about to share that with Megan, though; she already was looking at Kir like _she_ was the freak for knowing stuff.

"Well, in any case, the stage show totally sucked," Triffy continued. "Like, they totally left out 'Learn to be Lonely'…" She smirked at the gasps of horror from two of her audience.

"How the hell can they have _left it out_?" muttered Kir, again unable to resist. "The stage show came first; the extra songs were written for the movie. Duh."

"What do you know about it?" Megan's angry stare was openly challenging.

"Well, Jesus," Kir snapped back, "Of _course_ the stage show came first! Why do you think the movie got made in the first place? Like, it won almost every Broadway award in 1988—"

"As _if_."

"It totally did! My Mom watches the tape over and over because, like, _Sarafina!_ was nominated for stuff, but Phantom came along and won, like, everything it was in. It totally pisses me off 'cause Mom says Mbongeni Ngema totally deserved the award for Best Director, and she won't shut up about it."

"Like there was ever even a show _called_ _Sarafina_," Melanie stage-whispered to Megan.

"Forget it," grumbled Kir, and rolled herself up into her bag again, face to the wall, trying to ignore their snickers. "Keep it down. I'm going to sleep."

Music camp was, on the whole, actually kind of fun. Certainly more fun than she had thought it would be. Her Mom was right: she _was_ learning a lot. She doubted that anyone would hear the difference, not after only a week of lessons, but if she kept up the exercises she might improve her range and her tone a bit. Already her breathing was better, and she could hold a note a bit longer, too. Really, it wasn't so bad—during the day.

The nights, though, were pure hell. Every evening, as soon as the girls retired to their cabins after campfire, Megan would lead Triffy and Melanie in a rousing chorus of "Oh em gee, isn't the Phantom _hot_?" usually followed by a verse or two of "Oh em gee, Christine is such a _bitch_ for leaving him! _I_ wouldn't have left him." They'd usually go on for at _least_ an hour, keeping Kir awake with their inanity, and depriving her of much-needed rest. Music lessons were _hard_. And even after the lanterns were out and the flashlights extinguished and everyone nominally 'in bed,' there'd still be the occasional moans of, "Oh, Gerry!" followed by a chorus of giggles.

Luckily Randy, Suzanne and Sarah allowed her to hang out with them at lunch and stuff. Otherwise, Kir thought sleepily, she'd already have been driven insane, and it was only Friday…

Tonight, though, was even worse than usual. They _didn't_ keep it down, and even after Miriam, one of the camp counselors, came around to tell them to turn down the lanterns and go to bed, they _still_ wouldn't stop whispering and giggling.

The most annoying part, though, was that while they were too loud for Kir to get to sleep, they were mostly too quiet for her to make out what they were saying. She'd almost be drifting off, and then she'd hear, "Wiccan? No way!" or "Oh em gee! Summoning?" or "Yeah, _totally_ a bitch whore. Stupid cow," and get woken up again.

She finally lost it, though, when they all started moving around and thumping things on the floor and _saying_ stuff, like "I can't find the candles!" and "Does anyone have any more batteries? My iPod's dead," and "You're standing on my pants!"

"Jesus, guys!" Kir sat up again, frustrated beyond belief. "It's gotta be, like, almost midnight!"

"_Almost_…" someone snickered quietly.

"Can you _please_ just be quiet and go to sleep? _Please_?"

"Don't worry," Megan's voice dripped with scorn. "In a minute you won't hear us at all. Go back to sleep."

"Fine, then." Kir flopped back down. And sure enough, a minute or two later the door creaked quietly open, and she could see their shadows crossing the square of moonlight cast on the opposite wall. The door creaked quietly closed again, surprisingly with no giggles or _Shhh!_'s, and, as promised, all was quiet.

Problem was, now Kir _really_ couldn't get to sleep.

She tried telling herself she didn't care what happened to them (and she didn't think that she did), that it totally wasn't her fault if they went and got lost in the woods or eaten by a bear or, like, killed by Jason or something. Or that Scream guy. Yeah. With lots of stabbing and screaming of "Oh em gee, why me?!" and blood and stuff. _Totally_ not her fault.

But she also couldn't help feeling that she'd wind up being blamed for it somehow. You know. _Somebody_ (probably her mother) would say something like, "Why didn't you _tell_ anyone?" The words "responsibility" and "Not how _I_ raised you" would also probably be used. But she also _totally_ didn't want to go and wake up Miriam. Megan would never forgive her if she got them in trouble (not that she cared what Megan thought of her, but it was bad enough spending every night listening to what a cow bitch whore _Christine_ was, without having the comments being directed at _her_), and Miriam would probably be all mad at Kir for letting them go off into the night and stuff anyways.

_Hmm. What would the __logical__ thing to do be?_

Logic. Well, Su and Randy and them were big on logic… Perhaps they'd have an idea what to do. Decided, Kir climbed down from her bunk and tried to find her clothes without using her flashlight.

* * *

As it ended up, once she was outside, the moon was bright enough that she didn't need her flashlight as she picked her way down the edge of the wide path to The Rationalists' cabin. It made the shadows under the trees dark and strange, though. Still, she managed to summon enough courage to stop outside the window and listen before just barging straight in and waking everyone up.

Luckily, though, they were still awake; she could hear Randy quietly say, "But the Jewel Song is a _solo_! My voice is deep enough to sing Faust!"

Su murmured a reply too soft for Kir to hear through the slightly-opened window, but she caught Randy's soft "So we transpose it slightly! And we can just leave Mephistopheles out—it's a recital for our _parents_, for god's sake. No one's going to care."

"Psst!" Kir hissed.

"No one's even going to _notice_."

"_Psst_! Guys!"

There was a pause. "Did you hear something?" asked Randy.

"Psst! It's me! Kir! Can I come in?"

There was a thump, and Su's tousled head appeared as she opened the window. "Kir? What are you doing here? It's, like, midnight."

"Yeah, I know. I need your guys's help."

Randy joined Su. "Why? What's up?"

"Megan and her bunch all snuck out a little while ago. I think they may be doing something really dumb."

"So what? Go back to sleep," Su started to close the window.

"I can't! I'm gonna get blamed for not stopping them or telling anyone if they get, like, slashed or lost or something."

"So you thought you'd tell us?" Su sounded a little impatient, but Randy pointed out, "It's not like we were sleeping, anyways. Come on in."

Su closed the window as Kir squeezed through the door Randy barely held open. "So what're they up to?" she asked mildly, taking a quick peek outside before shutting it again.

Kir stuck her hands in her pocket. "I, ah, I'm not really sure. There was a lot of whispering and then they all got dressed and went out."

"Didn't you hear _anything_?"

"Well… Not really, just the odd word here and there. Like, they couldn't find the candles, and the iPod was out of juice, and, like, something about _Wiccan_ and _summoning_. That's about it."

"Oh, my god." Sarah sat up in her bed and turned the low lantern up a bit brighter. "What do they think they're doing?"

"What do you mean?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Melanie thinks of herself as Wiccan—which in this case mainly means wearing a pentacle and watching _Buffy_ a lot. But you know how a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing…"

Su looked concerned. "You think they're trying to summon something? What?"

Sarah ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "Really, it doesn't matter what they're aiming for. The odds are good that they're not gonna get it. But the odds are also pretty good that they might draw, shall we say, unwelcome attention."

"What, you mean, like, Satan or what? As if." Kir couldn't help feeling a bit scornful of Sarah's superstition, but Sarah shook her head in frustration.

"Look, it's not like some red guy jumping around with a pitchfork, okay? It's more like… Okay. Do you believe in God? Like, that there's some old guy in a robe up on a cloud somewhere?"

"Well, not like that, but I guess there's probably _some_ kind of—"

"Exactly. Whatever you're imagining supernatural stuff to be is almost certainly wrong, especially if all your info comes from TV and stuff, but it doesn't mean that there isn't anything out there."

"So… What, then?" asked Randy. "They try to summon… something, and they get something else instead. What are we talking about here? Like, a cold spot that won't go away? A creepy feeling? What?"

"How the hell should _I_ know?" snapped Sarah. "—Sorry. I'm just… I'm just a little creeped out by this. It could be anything. They could go and do whatever and have nothing happen at all, or they could summon a little energy that'll just disperse over a few days, or… Or I don't know. Something really bad could happen."

"So what do we do, then? Stop them?"

"That would probably be best, yeah." Sarah hopped down and began to get dressed.

"How do we do that?" asked Randy. "Has anyone seen my shoes?"

Su grinned. "Hide in the bushes and make a bunch of creepy noises and creep them out," she said. "Hey, Kir, you know where they are?"

"No, I didn't hear anything about that."

"They'll be at the Pit," said Randy confidently as she pulled her sweater on.

"Why's that?"

"Simple." She grinned. "One: it's far enough from the cabins to be private, but not _too _far in the dark. Two: the path is really easy to follow at night, what with all those white rocks along the edges. Three: they have no imagination. Honestly, where _else_ would they be?"

* * *

They slowed down as they neared the last turn, and, sure enough, heard the faint strains of an electric guitar, and the crescendo of an organ. "Come to me, my Angel of Music!" someone cried.

"Melanie," whispered Randy with a stifled snort. "No sense of pitch."

"Shh! Come on!" Su led them aside into the surrounding underbrush for some distance from the path. Carefully, quietly, the foursome crept close enough to be able to see into the clearing.

The title song to _The Phantom of the Opera_ seemed to have been set to repeat. "_Movie_ soundtrack," grumbled Randy. Several candles supplemented the moonlight as the three girls danced about, gyrating wildly and occasionally calling, "Come to me, my Angel!"

As they watched, though, Megan suddenly stopped, stalked over to the iPod, and turned it off. "This is stupid," she announced ("Agreed," giggled Randy and Kir in unison). "This totally isn't gonna work."

Melanie stood for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "No, I've got it…" she finally said, slowly. "Hang on a sec." She bent over behind one of the seating logs, apparently rummaging through something, and then popped back into view and sat down, flipping through a small book. "I've got something in here." She chewed a thumbnail. "I'm _pretty_ sure this'll work, but it's pretty advanced."

"Whatever. This isn't working."

"Yeah," chimed in Triffy, "Just try it, _please_, Melanie?"

"Fine." Melanie stood up with sudden confidence. "Okay, you guys smooth the ground out over here as much as you can. I'm gonna need a clear area about, oh… Um, about so big." She spread her arms wide. "And there should be say another couple of feet clear all the way around." She went back behind the log to rummage more.

"There isn't enough room here." Megan sounded pouty.

"Then _find_ room!" snapped Melanie. "Do you want to do this or not?"

Triffy cast about while Megan tapped her foot in apparent disgust. "How about over here?" she finally called. Melanie went over to look, something shiny in her hand.

"There's a big old tree down that way, just down the path to the beach, that's pretty clear at the base," Randy whispered in Kir's ear. "That's probably where they are."

"Should we go over there?" Kir whispered back.

"Not yet," Su replied. "Megan'll hear us if we try to move. Shh!"

"Yeah, this'll do," Melanie's voice drifted back. "Go and get me a candle so I can cast the circles, will you?" Kir felt Sarah stiffen beside her.

Megan wandered over as Triffy scurried back to the fire pit. "What's that knife thing?" she asked idly.

"It's not a 'knife thing', it's an _athame_," Melanie answered rather tartly. "It's sort of a small ritual sword. It represents the masculine principals."

"Whatever," they heard Megan reply, sounding bored.

"It's a very important part of a witch's ritual tools," Melanie continued, undaunted.

"So, what, you kill things with it?"

"Of _course_ not!" Melanie sounded shocked. "That's barbaric! Animal sacrifices are something _Heathens_ do, not _Pagans_. No, you don't need to kill an animal to use the life force. You just cut your finger for a bit of blood, that's all. And it's all totally consensual, so it's okay. _Unlike_ animal sacrifices."

"I can probably find a cat or a squirrel or something if you want to call up your dark master or whatever, though. Perhaps a bat?" Megan's voice was snide.

"Don't be an idiot," Melanie sniffed ("Ooh! That's gonna cost her," joked Su). "I need to use blood for this ritual, but my own will work just fine, thank you very much. –Oh, thanks, Triff. Here, come and stand over here…"

Triff's hesitant voice barely carried. "Shouldn't, um, shouldn't we _all_ give a little bit of blood? I mean, it's not like I'm into cutting, or anything like that," she hastened to add, "But, I mean, like, if we're going to _share_ him…" her voice trailed away into inaudibility.

"Look, just cast the spell," snapped Megan.

"Let's move a bit closer," suggested Su. "They're all over there; we can work our way over while they're distracted. If they hear us rustling about it might just scare them away anyways."

They were just settling into their new position when Melanie started chanting. "_Darkling night and shining moon, hearken to my witch's rune…"_

"We've got to stop them," Sarah snapped. "_Now_." She stood up.

"Wait, what?" asked Su as Randy stood, pulling Kir up as well.

"Hey!" she yelled, waving her arms. "Hey, guys!"

The girls didn't react, though. "Shit!" swore Sarah. "Anyone got a pen? Quick!"

No one did. "Shit," she muttered again, and dashed to the fire pit. "Come here!" she yelled. "This isn't a joke!"

Stumbling a bit as a cloud obscured the moon, the rest of The Rationalists followed her. Grabbing each in turn, Sarah yanked down their collars and drew a symbol where a pendant would hang. "Don't let that smudge," she gasped, trying to draw on herself.

"Here, let me," Randy grabbed it away from her and carefully copied the sigil from Kir.

Su looked annoyed. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"The spell she's doing," Sarah said, "It's very powerful. Not newbie stuff at all. And we're not in any protective circle or anything…"

"So what?" Su asked, coughing as a sudden gust swept ashes into her face. "Goddamn it…"

Dark as it was, Kir could see how pale Sarah's face was. "So I think something's happening. And we were close enough that I don't know if we'd be considered participants or not…"

"Shit." Randy sounded scared. "What do we do?"

"Get inside. I don't know what else we can do." Sarah sounded close to tears.

"What about them?" asked Kir. "Should we…"

"The hell with them," snapped Su. "They made their own bed. Let's just get Sarah inside."

Kir didn't like the thought of leaving the others in what was rapidly becoming a storm, but her guts clenched at the thought of going back. "Wait for me," she called, and hurried after the trio dashing to safety through the sudden downpour.

* * *

_A/N: Please review if you read! Next chapter going up the end of next week! Thanks for reading!_


	3. Going Under

_A/N: So here you go: Chapter Three! Chapter Four ought to be going up next weekend. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and thank you again to my lovely beta Biskuits for keeping my slang honest (I'm not TOO out of touch, but I speak the Canadian version of North American Teenager lol. Okay, maybe I'm a LITTLE out of date... ;-) ). Enjoy! ~Kryss_

* * *

Chapter Three: Going Under

Kir spent the rest of the night with the others; the idea of lying alone in the cabin in the dark, listening to the storm rage around her and wondering when the girls were going to return, and if they'd be, like, possessed or zombies or something if they _did_ come in, was just too much.

They lit all the lanterns and turned them up as bright as they could without smoking up the glass, but no one said anything much. Kir, armed with a borrowed blanket against the chill, snuggled into a corner and closed her eyes, but she didn't drift off to sleep until morning was lightening the sky. When she woke up a few hours later, after an uneasy sleep, it was to see Sarah still in the same position, sitting up in her bunk, arms around her knees, staring into the distance.

By the time they left for breakfast, the storm had settled into a steady grey drizzle. "Perfect," muttered Su as she huddled under the cabin's small porch roof. "Anyone bring a raincoat? Umbrella? _Anything_?"

"Of course not," Randy said, closing the door behind them.

"Well, why the hell not?" Su snapped.

"Because it never rains at music camp!" Randy snapped back.

"No, never," murmured Sarah. "Not once in five years…" She stepped off the porch and headed to the main hall. The other three eyed each other uneasily for a moment before Su finally sighed and, holding her jacket over her head, dashed off after her. Randy rolled her eyes at Kir and followed.

Kir wasn't sure she wanted to go. She knew she'd be asked what had happened to the girls if they hadn't turned up, and if they had… Well. She could imagine the blank, spooky stare they'd all have. Creepy. And her stomach positively churned at the thought of food. But she didn't want to be left alone…

Randy turned back to call, "You coming?"

"Yeah," she muttered, and then, louder, "Yeah, I'm coming." Raising her own jacket to cover her head, she headed off into the rain.

* * *

Much to her surprise, the main hall was completely normal. The long tables were full of the other girls eating their breakfast; happy, or sleepy, or grouchy, but all perfectly normal. Kir realized that she'd half-expected to see them all running around in a panic, or the place on fire, or something. This was… This was, like, _normal_. Creepily normal.

"Hey," Randy pointed with her chin as Kir caught up to her in the line-up. Turning, Kir saw Megan sitting at her usual place, with Melanie and Triffy. None of them seemed to be zombies or anything, though, Kir noted with relief, although Triffy was looking unusually subdued, and Megan kept giving Melanie dirty glances. Kir wished she could see Melanie's expression, but with her back to the line-up, all Kir could make out was that her shoulders were all hunched up.

"Megan's probably been ragging on her all night," Randy whispered with a grin. She seemed quite cheerful suddenly. Even Kir felt better, seeing them there like that, although Sarah, she saw, still had a pinched look.

"Oh! Kirsten, dear, a word, if I may?" Miriam, the second counselor, drew her a little aside. "Kirsten, I'm sorry to have heard that apparently you left your cabin in the middle of the night last night. Your mother assured me that you were a responsible girl; I do not want to be forced to inform her that you have been ignoring Lights Out."

Kir glanced over; sure enough, Megan was watching her with an open smirk. "Um, I'm sorry," she said. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd go and talk—go and go for a walk, just to the toilets, you know, and stuff, but then it started to rain and I was just in my pajamas so I thought perhaps I'd borrow an umbrella or something from Randy and them, but no one had anything like that, so I just borrowed a blanket and stayed there. I'm sorry," she added, since Miriam seemed to be waiting for more. "I won't do it again. I was just really tired, but I couldn't sleep, you know…" She gestured vaguely.

"Well, just so you understand that it isn't appropriate behavior," said Miriam, not looking entirely mollified.

"Oh, I know it's not!" Kir hastened to assure her.

"But I suppose, given the suddenness and the severity of the storm last night…"

"I wouldn't have gone out if it had been raining," Kir said. "And I won't do it again," she added, seeing the look on Miriam's face. "I'm usually a very sound sleeper, anyways."

"Well, alright, then," said Miriam. "Just please don't do it again."

"I won't," Kir promised and, sensing dismissal, rejoined Randy in the line. "Stupid cow," she muttered.

"Who? Miriam?" Randy held her plate out for pancakes.

"No, Megan. She totally told Miriam that I went out in the middle of the night! Bitch."

"Hmm," said Randy, grabbing syrup, "Smart. Well, think about it," she added at Kir's look of betrayal, "How're you going to go and tell on her now? Miriam'd never believe you. I wouldn't call her intelligent, precisely, but she certainly does excel at a certain sly vindictiveness, doesn't she?"

Kir just _Hmph_-ed as she held out her own plate.

* * *

The weather was too wet to hold the lessons outside as usual, Janet, the head counselor, informed the girls as they were finishing up, so instead they would be held in the hall. "Run and fetch whatever you need for the day," she told them, "And then come back here and we'll get started."

Kir shared the walk to her cabin with The Rationalists. "I wonder if there's some way I can move in with you guys?" she muttered as they stopped on her porch.

"There's no room," Sarah said, not without sympathy.

"Besides," Randy added, "It might be a good idea to have you around keeping an eye on them. You know, infiltrate the enemy camp, and all that."

"Yeah, I suppose…" Still, Kir wasn't looking forwards to being in the same room as Megan, let alone sleeping in it.

"Hey, don't worry," said Su. "Just go and grab your stuff before they get here, and we'll see you back at the hall, okay?"

"Okay," Kir echoed, watching them heading off through the drizzle with a sense of desolation.

* * *

The monotony of the day actually somehow made Kir feel a little bit better. Sure, it was sort of weird to have everyone all lumped into the hall all day, instead of scattered in small groups all over the place outside, and of course there was no afternoon swim down at the lake, not with the cold, persistent drizzle, but, all in all, it was okay. Megan seemed satisfied that she had found a way to shut Kir up, and seemed quite happy to ignore her if possible, and be curt if not, but she didn't seem outright hostile. If anything, she projected an air of smug superiority. It was annoying, but Megan was annoying anyways, so Kir managed to ignore her without too much trouble.

Frankly, she was having a lot more trouble deciding what to sing for the damned recital. She was _not_ looking forward to that. It sounded like Randy and Su were going to do some kind of a duet from some opera or other, but Kir didn't know anything well enough to sing but pop songs. Several "real" songs were suggested, but she couldn't read the music well enough to know if she could sing them, and the people who still had functioning MP3 players didn't seem to have any of the songs they were suggesting with them, so she couldn't even just listen to them to get a feel for them. Her own iPod's batteries had died days ago. She desperately missed the research possibilities of iTunes.

She was sitting despondently in a corner, lap covered with sheets of unintelligible music, trying to make a decision when Randy wandered over.

"Hey," she said, hands stuffed into her pockets. "Still trying to choose a song?"

Kir sighed deeply. "Yeah. Miriam gave these to me, but…" She sighed again as she waved a fistful of music about. "Jesus, I don't know _any_ of these songs, I _don't_ have a good singing voice, and they won't just let me sing _Row, Row, Row Your Boat_." She buried her face in her hands. "I don't know what to do. Everyone else's already practicing their songs, and figuring out what key they want to do it in, and learning the lyrics and stuff, and I can't even…" she trailed off as a lump of self-pity closed her throat.

Randy sat down next to her, crossed her legs, and regarded her for a moment, sympathy in her large brown eyes. "Well, look," she said, finally, "Never mind all that. What's your favorite song to sing in the shower?"

Kir laughed. "Forget it. They'll never let me sing it."

Randy grinned. "Yeah, probably not. Music camp; they like us to sing what our _parents_ consider music, not us." She looked at her hands for a moment, then added, "But it'll give us an idea of what kind of songs you like, what your _voice_ likes. So what's your favorite song?"

Kir thought for a moment. "Jesus, I don't know. There's a bunch."

"Sing something for me."

Kir blushed. "Are you kidding? _Here_? _Now_?"

"What, at music camp in a hall full of singing teenagers? Yeah, here, now. Why not? You don't have to do it loudly, just sing me something. The first song you think of."

"Fine." Kir thought a moment, then softly sang, "_I will go down with this ship, and I won't put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door, I'm in love and always will be…"_

"Ah! Got it." Randy's grin was even wider than usual. I know just the song for you. Not too hard, not too wide a range, satisfyingly emotional… You should sing 'It's All The Same' from _Man of La Mancha_."

"What from what?"

"Trust me. I know they've got the music here; I sang it myself my first year. Like I said, it's an easy one, and if you sound a little raw and unpolished it only makes the song better." She jumped up and pulled Kir to her feet, ignoring the cascade of music sheets. "Come on! Let's find Miriam."

Miriam managed to find the _Man of La Mancha_ folder without too much trouble, and Randy eagerly grabbed it as soon as it was offered and dragged Kir back to the corner. "Here," Randy dug through the sheets of music, "It should be right--- Dammit, hasn't anyone heard of…" She trailed off, a look of irritated concentration on her face.

"What is it?"

"Oh, they've alphabetized…" Randy's mumble trailed off, and her face cleared. "Ah! Here we go. 'It's All The Same' for Aldonza."

Kir felt a little scared. "I don't think I sing an aldonza," she said.

Randy laughed, not unkindly. "No, Aldonza's the character's name. She's the romantic lead."

"Romantic lead? I dunno, Randy… They seem to usually have pretty fancy voices."

"Naw, not her. She's more of a down-to-earth practical girl than some damsel waiting to be rescued." She winked broadly. "No worries, eh? Here, take a look."

Kir read the sheet, her jaw slowly dropping. "Jesus, Randy, she's, like, a total whore! My Mum would _kill_ me if I got up and sang that in front of everyone! I can't sing this," she said, firmly handing the music back.

Randy sighed, and grinned. "Fine, fine. She's the easiest to sing for new voices because, like I said, there's not too much range needed and a little rawness suits her. But, fine, fine…" She shuffled again. "Here. Try this. Even your _grandma_ couldn't object to _that_."

"'The Impossible Dream'… What's that?"

"You know. _To dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to bear with unbearable sorrow, to run where the brave dare not go_… Really, even the higher notes shouldn't give you too much trouble, not if we pick the key carefully, and the lyrics are really easy. You probably already know the tune."

"Yeah, it does sound kind of familiar…"

"Right then. No objections? Good. Your song's picked. Come on," and she hauled Kir to her feet again, "Let's go tell Miriam and get the rest of this lot back to her."

She carefully replaced 'It's All The Same' as Kir gathered up the rest. "Stupid alphabetization…"

Kir straightened, arms full of paper. "How else should it be done?"

"By the order in which it's sung, of course," Randy grumbled.

Kir thought a moment. "Why?" she asked. "I mean, if you knew the song title, and which show it was in, wouldn't it be easier to find if it was alphabetical? I mean, what if you didn't know the show?"

Randy grimaced. "Yeah, okay, I see your point, but," and she held up an instructing finger as they turned to go, "What about Wikipedia, huh? Or band websites, or anything like that? Are the songs listed alphabetically, or in the order they came out in? Eh?"

Kir laughed. "Okay, you got me there. I still think alphabetization helps, though."

Randy snorted. "Only if you don't know what you're doing."

* * *

By mid-afternoon Kir was enjoying herself again. She had her song, and Randy had hummed it for her a few times so she had enough of a grasp that she could follow along with the notes, and best of all, she was right: it _was_ an easy song. _And_ pretty enough that her parents would feel they'd gotten their money's worth out of her, she figured.

By dinnertime she had almost forgotten about the previous night's adventure, except for giggling over Su's spastic imitation of the girls' dancing. The whole thing seemed laughably childish, a silly prank that they had allowed to run away with them. It was like looking back at an evening of ghost stories around a campfire, she realized, and realizing just how stupid you had been to have been so freaked out the evening before. _Yeah, __just__ like that_, she thought. _Right down to the Opera Ghost and the campfire pit_.

Of course there was no campfire that evening, not with the wet, but they still had a fun evening in the hall, drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows, and relating the most embarrassing things that had happened to each other on stage. Kir almost peed herself by the time Su and Randy finished the story of a truly _dreadful_ music camp debut several years before, and felt immensely reassured. Tripping over a suddenly unpinned skirt as it fell around their ankles, only to realize that they had forgotten their underwear in the rush to get changed… No matter what, she was pretty sure, she wouldn't screw up _that_ badly!

She was still snickering as she made her way back to her cabin, got changed, and climbed into her sleeping bag to a blessedly quiet chorus of subdued 'goodnights' all round.

She slept well and deeply for almost the first night out of her own bed, barely even rousing enough to notice the door opening briefly onto the rain. In fact, her good mood lasted all the way to breakfast.

Unfortunately, halfway through her oatmeal, cold dread returned.

* * *

_A/N: Kir's song is __White Flag__ by Dido; the rest are, obviously, from __The Man of La Mancha__. Fabulous movie made of it back in 1972; track it down if you can! ~Kryss_


	4. Missing

_A/N: Just got back from a weekend visit to the big city (which has made it feel like it's been a week since I last posted), and survived the Two Days of Hell at work (which is doubly hellish since we're both self-employed and can't just quit lol), and I can finally announce that our second child is due in April. Yay! So to celebrate, have another chapter. Sorry it's not really celebratory material, but there you go. ;-) Thanks again to Biskuits who keeps me honest! Warning: the first bit of strong language appears here, so if the F-word offends you, then really, what are you doing on the Internet? ;-) No, seriously, it's only the once, so you should be okay. XD Next chapter probably middle of next week or so. Enjoy! :-) ~Kryss_

_

* * *

_Chapter 4: Missing

She hadn't really missed Melanie, not consciously. Okay, she had heard her say goodnight the evening before, but didn't even notice if she was getting dressed with the rest of them the next morning. And when she saw Megan and Triffy whispering together at their table, _sans_ Melanie, she just thought she was in the can or something, if she thought about it at all.

She did sort of notice when Janet went to talk to Miriam, because her face was so white and rigid she looked like she might faint. She was vaguely curious when Miriam got up too, her face suddenly just as pale, to follow her out. But she didn't really pay attention until one of the other girls came up to her and told her that Miriam wanted to see her in the administrator's cabin, right away. She saw the girl go to talk to Megan and Triffy as well, but didn't bother to wait for them.

Outside it seemed even colder than yesterday, if that was possible. She held out a hand to the drizzle, half-expecting to see slush. But there were no signs of ice, not even on her sleeve. It was just bitterly cold, and she had only packed for the traditional warm weather. Sighing, she stumped across the muddy yard to the Witches' Hut.

Stopping on the covered porch to stamp muck off her shoes she couldn't help sort of wondering why the kids called it that. Okay, 'the administrator's cabin' was a bit of a mouthful, and it did sort of have more gingerbread-y bits around the roof than the rest of them, but really, the counselors weren't, like, really _mean_ or anything. Just a bit, you know, uptight…

Mrs. McKay, the cook, didn't seem so bad, though, she mused as she passed her coming out of the Hut, a sniffling skinny kid tucked under one large, sheltering arm.

If she had thought that the counselors were uptight before, though, she was almost shocked when she went in. Janet looked positively grim. "Come in, Kirsten, please," Janet said, while Miriam, visible through the doorway to the back office, cranked on what looked like some kind of old radio with grim determination.

"Um, what's up?" Kir asked cautiously, taking the indicated seat in front of Janet's desk. "Is something wrong?"

Janet ignored the question, instead crossing her hands and leaning forward across the desk. "Now, Kirsten," she said, her voice tight, "This is really very important. When was the last time you saw Melanie ali—when was the last time you saw her?"

Kir looked blank for a moment. "Um, at dinner, I guess—no, I'm pretty sure she was there at Lights Out. I fell asleep pretty quickly though. Why? Is something wrong? Is she… missing?"

An icy fist clenched her guts at the expression that crossed Janet's face for just a moment before she regained control. _She's scared!_ Kir thought, almost panicked at the idea. _She's scared shitless. Oh my god, I think something's really __wrong_…

"_Fuck_!" Miriam's voice held none of Janet's control. "Janet, I can't get it to work right…" She trailed off as she came in and saw Kir.

The awkward pause was suddenly filled as Megan and Triffy came in, Megan with her usual air of superiority, Triffy a timid shadow. "What's wrong?" Megan demanded. "Where's Melanie? What's going on?" She glared at the counselors like they were naughty children. Kir wasn't sure if she should be impressed or scornful.

Janet seemed to have no such indecisions, though. "Sit down, Miss Perry. You too, Miss Andrews. Now. When was the last time either of you saw Miss Donovan?"

Megan withered not a bit under Janet's stare, but glared right back while Triffy squirmed and Kir wished she was someplace else. Finally, though, she grudgingly said, "She came back to the cabin with us last night, and she went to bed. We think she got up to go out to the can or something at some point, but that's it. In the morning she wasn't there. Now, what's happened? Where is she?"

Janet ignored the question as thoroughly as she had when Kir had asked it. Instead, she simply turned to Triffy. "Is that accurate, Tiffany?"

Triffy looked profoundly uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess…"

Janet gave her a long look. "Fine, then. Miss Perry, you may go. No, sit down, please, Tiffany—you too, Kirsten. _Thank you_, Miss Perry."

She waited until Megan had closed the door behind her, cutting off the warning look she was giving Triffy, before turning back to them and giving them a tight little smile. "Now, girls, I want to know what _really_ happened. _All_ of it, please."

"Well, um…" Triffy fidgeted with a lock of hair. "There really isn't anything else much…"

Janet sighed in frustration. "Tiffany, dear, this is _serious_. This isn't simply a matter of someone breaking Lights Out, and I _promise_ you that you won't get Miss Donovan in any more trouble than she already is."

From the office behind, Kir heard what sounded suspiciously like a moment of smothered hysterical laughter. Janet, if she heard anything, ignored it.

"Um, I think someone went out last night, but I don't know who or when," she timidly volunteered. "I just sort of remember a cold draft and the sound of the latch. Um. I was pretty asleep."

Janet turned to Triffy with a _Well?_ look on her face. "Um, yeah, she went out," Triffy confirmed nervously.

"To use the bathroom?"

"Um…"

"_Tiffany_…"

Triffy ducked her head and mumbled, "She said she heard some guy singing. She went out to have a look. That's all I know."

Janet looked faintly surprised. "'Some guy singing'? Who?"

"I dunno. Just some guy. She said it was, like, really pretty, but we couldn't hear anything. We told her it was just a dream, but she wouldn't go back to sleep. Megan—Megan figured that she'd just get cold and come back in." Triffy's voice got even quieter. "Is she—is she okay? I mean, whatever's happened to her… Is Megan gonna get kicked out?"

Janet sighed and looked really tired. "Triffy, dear, whatever's happened to Melanie isn't anyone else's fault but—It isn't Megan's fault, I can assure you. Although," and she fixed them both with a pointed look, "I don't want _anyone else_ breaking Lights Out, and if anyone _else_ goes wandering out in the middle of the night, I want to know _immediately_. Is that clear?"

Kir and Triffy both nodded, looking at each other guiltily. _Is it my fault?_ Kir wondered. _Whatever's happening, did it happen because I didn't go and tell Miriam or anyone about them after all?_ Triffy looked like she was having similar thoughts.

Janet smiled, tired but not unkind. "I'm sure that nothing either of you may have said or done had anything to do with anything. Go on back to your friends, now; I'm sure we'll get all this sorted out in no time."

Kir got up and followed Triffy to the door. As she closed it behind her, she heard Miriam's voice, faint but distinct, despairing in the background, "…I can't get it to _work_..!"

* * *

The Rationalists swarmed around Kir practically as soon as she got in the hall door. "Come with us," Su whispered. "We gotta check something out."

"What is it?" Kir asked, but Randy hissed, "Not here! Come on!" and dragged her outside again.

They stayed quiet, heading in a group towards the toilets, until, once they were out of sight of the hall, Su said, "Come _on_!" and led the way in a jog to the trail to the fire pit.

"What's up?" Kir panted, following.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Sarah replied, her pace easy, her eyes worried. "Poor Angelina's still in hysterics in her cabin. You can hear her all the way from the cans…"

"What? Wait, Angelina?"

"Yeah, the skinny little kid, blonde hair, you know? Sings a decent soprano?"

"Okay, whatever; what's happened?"

"We don't know," Su said, finally slowing down to a walk, "But we have a nasty suspicion."

"A _very_ nasty suspicion," confirmed Randy soberly.

"What did they want to talk to you about? What's happened? Did they say?"

"No, they wouldn't tell me anything, not even when I asked. They just wanted to know when we saw her last."

"And that was...?" asked Su.

"Last night sometime. I guess she got out of bed and went out, and that's the last anyone saw of her."

"Until now…" breathed Randy. Sarah looked pale and hurried off to bend over the side of the path, leaning heavily on a nearby tree. Kir felt queasy herself.

Sure enough, as Randy had said, a little ways away from the path there was some kind of giant old tree. Dead leaves matted the bare ground beneath the spreading branches. Kir had wondered, for a moment, why there were sneakers hanging from the branches. Then she looked a little higher.

Melanie's pale pajamas blended in nicely with the silvery tree, she noticed in a detached sort of way. It was the pink of her shoes that stood out. Of course, it helped that they were at eye level…

"_What are you doing here?_" The sudden angry voice from behind made Kir scream, she couldn't help it. She was pretty sure the rest had screamed too; she was just glad she'd somehow avoided wetting herself. _It's okay, it's Miriam_… She still couldn't stop shaking, somehow.

The Rationalists huddled together, soaked and scared under the counselor's furious glare. "_Why_ didn't you _stay_—oh, never mind." She looked in despair at the sad bundle turning gently in the wind. "Look, just—just go back to the hall, okay, guys? And _please_, _don't_ say anything to anyone. We're going to make some sort of an announcement soon, don't worry. We just…" She raised her hands, then dropped them in a gesture of defeat. "We're just trying to figure out what to say…"

She stood there, silent, until Su recovered enough to quietly say, "Come on, guys," and prod them gently back up the trail.

* * *

The drizzle on the tin roof was almost comforting, Kir thought, as she listened to Janet address the girls from the little dais. It somehow added to the air of unrealism; it made it easier to believe that she was going to wake up any minute. The way the counselor's babble about the uselessness of suicide and about 'the grieving process' was putting her to sleep was helping that along quite nicely.

The Rationalists huddled together at the back of the hall, a little ways away from the other girls. Kir particularly wanted to avoid Megan and Triffy, who were quietly crying together in the front row. She didn't quite know what to say to them. They had lost a friend; _she_ had lost someone who annoyed her. She wasn't quite sure what she felt about it.

"I don't know, guys," Randy whispered, looking nervous. "This isn't right."

"Look, it's _always_ a tragedy when someone so young dies, right?" Su whispered back. "Well, _almost_ always… Yeah, I guess it probably is…"

"Come on," Randy hissed. "Didn't you notice the way the knot was sort of pushing her head over to the side? And what about all the broken capillaries all over her face, and the lividity? Her neck totally wasn't broken; she strangled to death."

"Well, fine, so she hung herself and got strangled. And who the hell uses words like 'lividity', anyways?" Su whispered back.

"No, don't you see? _The knot was pushing her head to the side_. If she had jumped with the rope around her neck like that, her neck would have snapped and she'd've died instantly. But her neck _didn't_ snap. She was _strangled_. She died of asphyxiation."

"So she climbed up on a stump and pushed it over with her feet, then!" Su's whisper was hoarse with irritation. "Just because her neck didn't break doesn't mean anything!"

"No? _What_ stump, Su? Did you look? _I_ did. There was nothing around she could have climbed up on and pushed over. The only way she could have ended up hanging there under her own power is if she climbed up to the branch she was hanging from and jumped. There weren't any lower branches."

"Come to think of it, if there weren't any lower branches, then how would she have climbed up?" whispered Kir, with a sinking feeling.

"Right! And even if she somehow _had_, her neck would still have snapped. What I wouldn't give to take a look at the top of that branch. I bet you anything there's rope burns on it…"

"Rope burns?"

"The only way someone would have been able to hoist her up so high easily would have been to toss the end of the rope over the branch, put it around her neck, and pull her up. She can't have weighed more than one-twenty; even dead, it wouldn't have been _that_ hard to do."

"What do you mean, Randy?" Su hissed.

Randy's face was white. "I mean there's no way it could have been suicide, no matter what Janet says. Guys, she was murdered."

* * *

_A/N: Dun dun DUNN! *grins wickedly and rubs hands together evilly* Well, really, did you really think that summoning the Phantom of the Opera would end well? XD he's a man, er, Ghost, who likes his privacy, he does. ;-) See you next week! ~Kryss_


	5. Whisper

_A/N: This chapter may make for a difficult read, I'm afraid, but I felt it was necessary. I explain why at the end (as I don't want to give too much away here). However, chin up! The next chapter has a rousing argument, at least, and after that, the girls start to get proactive. ;-)_

_

* * *

_Chapter 5: Whisper

There were no further lessons that day.

The drizzle still prevented any real outdoor activity, but no one seemed to want to leave the hall, anyways. A few of the girls formed their usual groups and practiced, but while Mrs. McKay maintained a motherly presence, there was no sign of Miriam or Janet. No one to teach them.

Kir didn't really feel like learning or practicing, anyways. She'd never really known someone who died, before. Okay, there was her great-aunt, who'd died when she was a kid, but she didn't _know_ her. She was just someone she had to send a card to at Christmas.

Besides, _she'd_ died of old age. _She_ hadn't been murdered. It wasn't the same. Not at all.

"Where the hell are Miriam and Janet?" she'd finally whispered to Randy. "Shouldn't they be here?"

"I think Miriam went into town," she replied. "Janet's in the Hut, I think."

"Yeah, but why isn't she _here_?"

Randy looked at her. "She's probably trying to get hold of Melanie's family, I should think."

"How's she going to do that? There aren't any phones out here, are there?"

Randy snorted. "You see any phone lines? No, they've got some kind of old radio in the office. They pretty much only use it for emergencies, though." She snorted again. "My second year, they had to call a girl's mom on it to come and get her, three days in. She was so homesick that she was crying all night long, every night. None of us could get any sleep. And she wasn't eating or anything, so finally they called her mom up on the radio. Her mom was really mad, too. I think she had to come back from vacation or something to get her. She totally reamed her out in the parking lot, right in front of everybody. I felt pretty bad for her, actually…"

"Um… This radio, so it's, like, what, some kind of a cell phone?"

"Naw, it's, like, some old hand-cranked ham radio or something. I think it's left over from World War Two or something. But it doesn't take electricity, see? Cell phones don't work out here; there's no coverage. God knows we've all tried. It's dead here."

"Um, Randy? I don't… I don't think the radio is working."

"_Pssht_."

"No, really. Like, when I went in this morning, Miriam was cranking on something really hard in the other room, and getting all freaked out because she couldn't get it to work… That's probably really bad, isn't it?"

Randy pursed her lips in thought. "Well, like I said, they hardly ever use it, so it could have blown a transistor or something and they'd never know. Stupid of them to not try it regularly, though. Hm. Miriam must have gone into town to get the cops or what, then."

"Why'd they need the cops, though? I mean, if they think it was suicide?"

Randy hesitated a moment, then said quietly, "I think they can't get her down."

"_What_? What are you talking about?"

Randy gestured vaguely. "Look, she's pretty high up, okay? And I don't think they've got a ladder here. And they aren't going to be able to climb the tree… I don't think they left her there because they thought she'd be a cool decoration, Kir! I don't think they can get her down."

"Um. Perhaps they just wanted to leave everything untouched? You know, like for the cops?"

"Perhaps. Either way."

"It's wrong."

"What?"

"It's _wrong_," Kir repeated, with determination. "She's, like, seventeen. She shouldn't be dead. She shouldn't have to hang out there in the rain and cold like that. It's… It's just wrong."

Randy just looked depressed. "Yeah, I know. What else can we do, though? If Miriam and Janet aren't strong enough to get her back down, you and me sure won't be."

"I dunno. Maybe just… Maybe just sit with her. She shouldn't have to be alone."

"Yeah." Randy was quiet a moment. "They'll get mad at you for messing up the crime scene or traumatizing yourself or what."

"I'm already traumatized," said Kir, only half-joking. "I'm not gonna get any _more_ traumatized, believe me. Don't worry; I won't be long. I just want her to know… I guess I just want her to know that she's not alone."

Randy sighed, and pushed her glasses up her nose. "All right, then. But let me stop by my cabin on the way, 'k'? I'm gonna get soaked if I'm out there for any length of time dressed like this."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to…"

"No, no; you're right. But let's tell Su where we're going, okay? Just in case."

* * *

Su made it quite clear that she thought the entire idea of hanging around outside in the freezing rain with a dead body was a stupid, creepy, gross idea, but she also eventually promised to cover for them. "Just for half an hour, though!" she said. "I'll tell them you went to the can or something. But that's it!"

"That'll be long enough," Randy assured her. "Believe me, I don't want to be out there in that either."

"Yeah," added Kir, "It's just something I have to do."

Su blew a lock of hair aside impatiently. "Fine, then. Go."

"Right. Hey, if we're not back in forty-five, send a rescue party, 'k'?" Randy grinned.

She quickly sobered outside, though. "Look, we're both gonna get soaked in this," she gasped as they dashed to Kir's cabin. "Let's not be too long, okay? It won't help anyone if we come down with pneumonia or something."

"No prob," Kir replied, leading the way into the cabin. "Let me just grab _something_…" She rummaged about in her duffel bag while Randy stood in the center of the floor, hands in pockets, eyeing the room critically.

"Funny, it looks just the same as ours," she said. "I expected more pink, somehow…"

"Well, there's stuffed animals, does that help?"

"Did Melanie have one?"

"I dunno. That's her bunk there…" Kir was almost to the bottom of her bag and _still_ couldn't find anything good for rain.

When she finally emerged with one of the only long-sleeved shirts her mom had bothered to pack for her, it was to see Randy hugging a small purple bear. "That hers?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I guess," Randy said, hurriedly wiping her nose on her arm. "Look, let's just leave it out there for her and come back, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," said Kir, donning the shirt. "If we leave him right by the tree trunk he shouldn't get _too_ wet…"

The girls shared a slightly watery grin and headed out.

* * *

It was weird to be heading down the path to the fire pit, knowing what waited for them just a little way beyond. Kir's instinct, of course, was to run and get out of the rain, but she didn't want to get to—to the tree any quicker than she had to, even if it _had_ been her idea. Randy seemed to feel the same way, because she had the same awkward sort of trying-not-to-hurry hurry she could feel herself doing. They didn't-hurry the whole way, Randy clutching the teddy bear to her chest, in silence, except for Randy's muttered, "It's drier here on the edge under the trees."

They were huddled under one of the trees around the fire pit, trying to warm up and to fortify themselves for the last leg of their sad journey, when they heard footsteps on the path behind them. "Damn it all, girls, I told you to _stay away_!" snapped Miriam.

They straightened guiltily as two cops came into sight behind her, their jackets dark with rain. "Um, I know, Miriam," Kir began, "We're sorry. We just, um…"

Randy stepped forward, still clutching the bear. "This was hers. Melanie's. We just didn't want her to be all alone." She thrust the stuffy at Miriam stiffly, then stepped back beside Kir, waiting.

In the rain, it almost looked like Miriam was crying. "Oh. I see…" She trailed away into silence.

Finally one of the cops, the older one, said kindly, "That was very nice of you. We'll make sure it stays with her. You go on back with the others and get dry now, you hear?"

Kir and Randy nodded and fled.

* * *

"The cops are here," Su announced unnecessarily as they entered the hall.

"Yeah, we know," Randy said; "We ran into them on the path." She didn't mention the cruiser and the ambulance in the parking area outside.

"So it's all good?"

"Yeah," Kir said. Randy looked depressed. "We gave them her teddy bear to take with her."

"Cool," Su said quietly. "Come on, go see if Mrs. McKay'll let you stand by the stove and warm up. She just made us all hot chocolate."

Kir and Randy were still basking in the warmth of the giant wood cook stove in the kitchen, clutching steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and steaming very slightly themselves as they dried, when there was a sudden rush to the front windows.

Randy met her eyes soberly; neither of them moved. Randy shuffled round a bit so her back was more firmly to the windows and the sad vision of the draped form they knew was being carried past to the waiting ambulance.

"Well, it's a sad thing, girls," sighed Mrs. McKay, seeing their downcast faces, "But it happens sometimes."

"I don't think she was the suicide type," muttered Randy darkly.

"Well, you never know, do you? You can look at someone and think they've got it all, and you never know how hard it is for them to live that life. Sometimes all you can see is the mask they use to hide who they really are." Mrs. McKay draped a comforting arm around each of their shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "You just have to remember that this was her decision, and if she was bound and determined, nothing would have stopped her. It was her time, and she'd made up her mind. That's all." She gave them another squeeze, and went back to her chopping.

"Yeah," Kir said, seeing Randy's dark look, "I guess. Thanks."

* * *

For a change there was no chatter, no squeeing over the Phantom, no bitching about Christine. They all had an early night, got changed into their PJ's in near silence, got into bed, and turned down the lamps. That was it. Kir thought that she'd have been happier about it if the whole thing wasn't so damned depressing.

She stared into the dark for a while, hearing the occasional sniff. "Hey," she whispered finally, "I'm sorry. About Melanie, I mean. I know you guys were friends."

"Yeah," came a sigh out of the darkness. Kir couldn't tell if it was Triffy or Megan.

"Hey, we heard about what you did. You know. With the bear," Megan whispered. She paused, then added thickly, "Thanks for that."

"Sure," Kir whispered back, and lay back to stare at the ceiling.

She didn't think she'd be able to sleep, but she must have dropped off at some point, because she gradually realized she was being woken up. Someone was shuffling around in the dark. "Go to bed," she mumbled thickly.

"I can't! I gotta go out and I can't find my shoe!" Triffy whispered hoarsely. The shuffling continued.

"God, go pee and go back to bed, will you?" She mumbled from the depths of her sleeping bag.

"No, there's music, can't you hear?" Triffy whispered back. "Someone's singing."

"This is _music camp_. Of _course_ there's someone singing. Go to bed! I'm trying to sleep."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Best time to sleep, dope," Kir mumbled to herself.

"Besides, it's a man. Can't you _hear_ him? It's _beautiful_!" There was a thump like she dropped her shoe.

Kir listened for a moment. "There's nothing there. You just had a dream, that's all. You dreamed about the Phantom, so go back to bed."

"No, this isn't _his_ voice. It's… it's like an _angel_. You _really_ can't hear it?"

"No!"

"_Shhh_!" Megan hissed.

"Look, I'm just going to go and check it out. I'll be, like, right back. Go back to sleep." Kir could hear her shoes on the floor as she crept to the door.

"_Shhhh_!"

"Sorry," Triffy whispered, and slipped outside.

* * *

_A/N: Too many times I've read books or fics or seen movies where a character who is supposed to be good friends with someone else gets killed, and while the visceral impact of seeing a body is occasionally dealt with (usually with loud screams), the emotional impact of having someone you know die (let alone from "unnatural causes") is completely ignored. Perhaps it's the perspective of having had deaths in my own life, or perhaps it's just the experience of age ("Never play tragedy under 30," was a quote our theatre teacher told us. High school students, for example, are great at playing Romeo and Juliet, because they can relate, but they fall down as the parents who have just realized that, because of their feud, their child is dead. They just don't have the perspective or experience to connect with those emotions); in any case, I wanted to address it, however fleetingly. Sorry for the downer. The next chapter should have more stuff actually happening in it. Or at least not be such a bummer, lol. ~Kryss_­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­


	6. Weight of the World

_A/N: Now with 64% more DRAMA! XD __Next episode, the girls get proactive! Well, okay, they do start with this chapter, I guess... But MORE DRAMA! XD_

_Thanks again to my beta Biskuits, who keeps me honest! ~Kryss_

* * *

Chapter Six: Weight of the World

Kir woke up to find herself alone. A glance at her Mom's travel clock showed that she had overslept; she'd have to hurry to get any breakfast at all. She muttered imprecations against Megan and Triffy for just leaving her there to starve as she hurriedly dressed and dashed through the stupid rain to the hall.

Jesus! If she wasn't very lucky she'd have missed the beginning of the bloody lessons, as well. She'd be lucky to get anything before lunch. She was probably going to starve to death. _How long does it take to starve, anyways?_ She wondered as she hauled the door open. Probably not very long, if the uncomfortable feeling in her tummy was any indication.

Every face swiveled to face her as she hurried in. Every pale, tear-stained face. _Oh, Jesus,_ thought Kir, _Something's wrong. Again_.

_I'm never going to get breakfast_.

Blushing furiously at the attention, she scurried over to scoot in next to Randy and the rest. "What happened?" she whispered. They looked as freaked as everyone else.

"There's been another death," Randy whispered back. A girl at the next table shushed them.

"As I was saying," Janet said, up on the little dais, "I _know_ it's hard to lose a friend. I _know_ some of you have known each other for years, and some of you stay in touch in your regular lives. Losing a friend, someone who's part of your lives, is _always_ hard, especially at your ages. But there are alternatives. _Talk_ to someone. Come and talk to _me_, even if it's the middle of the night. My door is always open. Just knock, and we'll talk, no matter how late it is. All right?" She paused for a moment, her smile looking a bit forced. "Are there any questions?"

Kir thought about raising her hand, but a sideways glance showed Randy shaking her head slightly at her. She kept her hand lowered.

She took the first opportunity she could, though (after begging a bowl of cereal off of Mrs. McKay) to ask them quietly, "What happened? What's going on?"

"It's Triffy," Randy answered, while Sarah looked at the table and Su looked away. "They found her this morning."

"_Found_ her?" Kir couldn't stop asking, though she dreaded the answer.

"Yeah. Just… just like Melanie. Same M.O. and everything."

"This is stupid," muttered Su. "Megan just ragged on Melanie too much and she snapped, and then Triffy just got really depressed about it and _she_ snapped. That's all. It's just a bunch of stupid girls getting all angsty about nothing."

"Look," began Randy, looking angry, "You saw Melanie the same as us. There's no way—"

"_It's not murder!_" A couple of others nearby turned to look and Su lowered her voice, but she was obviously still mad. "It's not murder, okay? Just because _you_ can't explain how she did it, doesn't mean that anyone else did _anything_."

"Look," Kir whispered nervously, "Perhaps we should, like, tell Janet what we think."

"What _Randy_ thinks," Su muttered crossly.

"Whatever. I mean, if someone else _is_ involved, or even _might_ be involved, then shouldn't we tell them?"

"The problem is," Randy sighed, "We don't have any idea who. All we know is that they couldn't have done it to themselves."

"Says you."

"That's not all we know," Sarah said quietly.

The others looked at her for a moment. "Um, what do you-?"

"What I mean is," Sarah interrupted, still looking at the table, "We all know what started all this."

"We do?"

"Yeah. We do." Sarah finally looked at them. "Look, none of us much liked Melanie or Triffy, but just because they thought they were better singers than they were, and that ALW is a genius, doesn't make them suicidal. I mean, like, _none_ of us are suicidal here, right?"

"How can _you_ tell?" Su crossed her arms.

"I can tell," Sarah said. "My cousin killed herself last year. No one here is talking about killing themselves, even joking; no one here is talking about what happens after you die, or if it hurts, or what it would be like to be dead; no one here is even crying and really depressed or anything." She glanced around for a moment, and then added, "Well, not before all this, anyways."

"So?"

"So they weren't suicidal. I'm positive. And everything was just fine until… Until the other night."

"What other night?" asked Su impatiently.

Sarah wordlessly pulled her collar open a little further. The sigil from the other night was still there, but in pen. She tugged her collar straight again and looked at them.

"So, what," said Su finally, "You think that this is all about that stupid bit of _magic_ they were trying to do? Are you _insane_?"

"Everything was fine until then," Sarah said quietly.

"Yeah. You know what? You _are_ insane. This is _nuts_. I can't believe I'm even listening to this." Su stood up. "I'm gonna go practice. My parents paid good money for me to come here and sing, dammit, not pretend to be Scooby Doo!"

Kir looked at the table, not wanting to meet Su's eyes as she stalked away.

"Look," said Randy finally, "I don't know whether or not I believe in this supernatural stuff myself. But _something_ is _definitely_ going on. What do you guys figure we need to do?"

"Um, I guess we should tell someone."

"Tell them what, though?"

"We need to find out what they've summoned," Sarah said. "What we do then depends on that. You know, on what it is."

"Or who?"

"How do we do that, anyways?"

"Well, that part's harder," Sarah looked wry. "We need more clues. More info."

"Right, then," sighed Randy, "Scoobies on patrol!"

* * *

That evening Kir hooked up with Randy and Sarah in a corner of the hall over notebooks and hot chocolates. Su still refused to have anything to do with what she made quite obvious she thought was complete stupidity.

"Right, then," said Randy, taking notes, "What have we got?"

"Um…"

"Well…"

"Fine," sighed Randy. "Okay. One. We know he's a guy."

"How do we know that?" asked Kir.

"How do we know he's, you know, real?" asked Sarah.

"Well, Occam's Razor, guys. Jeez. The simplest explanation is that there's one person doing this, and that they're completely real. You know. Not supernatural. Just some guy."

"How do you know it's not something supernatural?"

"I don't. But without any evidence one way or other, I have to assume that the simplest explanation, that it's an actual living person doing this, is correct."

Sarah looked unhappy; Randy added, "Perhaps it _is_ something supernatural; the timing would seem to indicate a link to the… the summoning or whatever. Have you got anything else?"

Sarah shook her head. "I couldn't get anywhere near the pit. They've barricaded it off."

"Barricaded? Really?" asked Kir. "Jesus."

"And you couldn't get past?"

"Well, no. They had signs on them."

"Signs? What signs?"

"You know. Like, 'Unauthorized Entry Prohibited.' That kind of thing."

"Wait," Randy seemed confused. "So you couldn't just go around them?"

"No, of course not. They had these, like, these railings or little tree trunks or whatever stretched right across the paths. Both of them. And they had these 'Do Not Cross' signs on them."

Randy sort of looked at Sarah sideways for a minute. "Okay, then," she said slowly. "Let me know if you come across anything.

"In the meantime, no further evidence to the contrary, we're assuming that we've got a single male running around out here."

"We are?"

"We are what?"

"Um, why are we assuming it's a single male?"

"Because it complicates things if it's a bunch of people, and because if it's only one person then it's gotta be a guy."

"Yeah, but _why_?" Kir's brow wrinkled.

Randy rolled her eyes. "_You_ know a girl strong enough to hoist a dead teenage girl up by her neck? Huh? _I_ sure don't."

"It could happen," said Kir. "Like, some girls who do weightlifting and stuff are pretty strong."

"Yeah, they are," agreed Randy, "But it's still more likely that we've just got an ordinary guy, not some super-chick. Besides, no one here works out. Not like that, anyways."

Kir subsided, but she still didn't agree a hundred percent.

"Prove me wrong, guys," Randy said cheerfully. "'The simplest explanation is the most likely to be true.' Doesn't mean that it _is_ the truth, though. It just gives us a starting point. Anyone got anything else?"

"Um, well, they were both strangled… Right?"

"Yes! Good one, Kir. Damn it, it would have helped to have been able to examine the crime scene or the bodies, but…"

"Jesus, Randy," Su commented, wandering over, "Enjoying this much?"

"I like to use my brain, yeah," Randy retorted. "And it feels good to feel like we're doing something instead of just waiting for the next person to be bumped off. To me, anyways."

"Yeah, me too, I guess," Kir agreed.

"Me too."

"Right then. Anything else?"

"It always happens at night, right?" Sarah looked over at Kir. "I mean, you said Melanie went out at night that one time…"

"Yeah. And they found Triffy before breakfast, so I guess she did too, huh?" At Kir's nod and shrug she continued. "Great! Now we're getting somewhere."

"Yeah? Found the evil supernatural killer yet?" Su looked down at the huddled little group.

"No, not yet," said Randy. "You?"

Su sighed. "Naw. And I'm still not convinced that they were killed. You know. Murdered." She winced slightly at the word. "But if there _is_ someone out there…"

Sarah scooted over a bit; after a moment Kir caught on and scooted too. Su sank between them and crossed her legs. "So. Whaddaya got?"

Randy grimaced. "Probably a guy. Probably acting alone. Probably not supernatural in origin, but we haven't ruled that out completely yet."

"Based on what?"

"Mainly the timing," Randy admitted. "Seems to prefer to work at night."

"Oh! Strangulation." Kir interjected.

"Right. Seems to prefer strangulation. Given, two incidents really aren't enough for any kind of decent statistical sample, but I don't think we really want to wait for more, do we? Right. So."

"So what does that add up to?" asked Su.

"Mmm. Mainly to not going out at night, I guess. For now. There's no guys within a hundred miles of here—"

"—That we know of."

"That we know of, right. Amended. But anyways, there isn't a guy in a hundred miles of here _that we know of_, so we have no suspects right now."

"Great."

"So I guess, for now, don't go out after dark."

"Don't go alone, either," said Kir, visions of Camp Crystal Lake dancing in her head.

"I think that's covered under 'don't go out'."

"Yeah, but, like, what if you have to use the can or what?"

"Well, then…"Randy smiled wryly. "'Don't go out alone, either'."

* * *

The Rationalists walked Kir back to her cabin, then left in a group. Megan was already in bed, head tucked under her pillow.

Kir got into her pajamas and bed herself, then reached to turn down the light. "Please don't," Megan said. "Leave it on, Kir, please?"

Kir thought about how hard it was to sleep with the lights on, but then she thought of lying in the dark with the two empty beds. "Yeah, sure," she said, withdrawing her hand and snuggling into the comfort of her sleeping bag.

Kir really didn't expect to sleep a wink that night, but much to her surprise, when she stuck her head out again, it was morning. Megan smiled weakly at her. She looked like crap. "What time is it?" Kir yawned.

"About seven, I guess."

"Did you get any sleep?" It sure didn't look like it. Her eyes were red and there were bags under her eyes.

"No."

Kir was silent for a moment, then smiled back. "Breakfast?"

"Yeah, I guess." For once, Megan didn't sound like a bag.

* * *

And for once, there weren't any missing faces. Kir almost relaxed.

"Hey," Megan said to her as they got their breakfast, "Do you, like, mind if I sit with you?"

"What?"

"Can I sit with you? You know, like, to eat? Only…" she sort of glanced at her usual spot. Her usual, empty spot.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess."

"Thanks."

The Rationalists looked less pleased to have her join them, but even if reluctantly, they shuffled over to make room when Kir made puppy dog eyes at them.

The table was slightly more subdued than usual with her there, though. In fact, most of the conversation was limited to things like, "Pass me the syrup, hey?" until Megan finally spoke up.

"You know, I just don't get why you guys are always like this."

"Like what?" Su asked.

"Like _this_. You know. I mean, you guys like music too. What's your _problem_?"

"Well," said Su slowly, "That sort of _is_ the problem. We like _music_. Not crappy pablum wannabe crap."

"So you don't like me because I like Andrew Lloyd-Webber, is that it?" Megan sounded pissed.

"No…" Randy said, "It's not because you like his stuff. It's not even because you _sing_ his stuff. It's because you think his stuff is _good_."

"And just what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, _Randy_? _You_ like Phantom _too_!"

"Yes, I do. _I like the book_. And hell, I even like _The Phantom of the Paradise_. But _I_ don't go around claiming that Brian de Palma is the greatest director of all time and that, like, _Citizen Kane_ sucks because Brian didn't direct it and—God, why do I even bother. You're right. I hate you because you like ALW. Happy?" She got up, grabbed her empty dishes, and stalked off.

"Wow. What got into _her_?"

"I dunno." Su swigged milk. "Perhaps she just doesn't like ALW."

"You know what the _worst_ part is?" Randy stomped back over again. "The _worst_ part isn't that you think Gerard Butler's Phantom is _hot_. The _worst_ part is that you think he's _supposed_ to be hot!"

"Well, he _is_!"

"_No_, he's _not_! He's _supposed_ to be an older guy who's spent his _entire life_ crossing the freaking _globe_, not hiding out in the basement of an opera house that he actually helped to _build_ during the Commune—"

"The _what_?"

"The _Commune_. When the Prussians besieged Paris? When the city, like, totally shut down for, like, nine months? You know? Right when that asshat Nipples McCrazy put the stupid movie… Weird that there's no siege going on in Paris right then in _that_, huh?"

"_Whatever_."

"No. Not '_whatever_'. _See_? That's just it! That's it right there. I'm trying to tell you that the story you think is Phantom has, like, _nothing_ to do with Leroux, and you just brush me off!

"That's 'cause you're treating me like an idiot!"

"That's because you're _acting_ like an idiot!"

They paused for a moment, glaring at each other. Finally Randy growled, "The Phantom is, like, fifty years old, tall, skinny, and looks like a walking corpse. He smells of death. He's bat-shit crazy. He is _not_ hot. He is _not_ a Masterful Virgin sex god. He does _not_ look like Zorro. And he's _intensely attractive anyways_. He has the _voice_ of an _angel_. And I don't give a _damn_ how good Gerard was 'considering', '_good, considering_' is _not_ the same thing as _good_! _God_."

"Well, I _still_ like the movie and I _still_ like _Gerry_ and if you _want_ the fugly bat-shit guy you go right ahead! You can _have_ him and you can _keep_ him!"

"I _will_!"

"Oh em gee, why am I even still _here_ with you losers?" Megan got up.

"Because Kir invited you because she felt sorry for you," said Randy nastily.

"God, you're such a _bitch_," gasped Megan, and whirled and fled.

"Read the goddamned _book_, Phanbrat!" Randy shouted after her. "What?" she added as the rest stared at her.

"Wow, that really was, um, a bit strong…"

Su snorted. "Kir means that really was pretty bitchy, Randy."

"Well, goddammit all—"

"I understand how you feel," said Sarah quietly. "But you were a bit harsh."

Randy conceded with a gesture, although it looked grudging, thought Kir. "It's just that she drives me nuts," she said. "Her and all the other idiot Phanbrats. They just won't _listen_."

"Yeah, well, yelling at them probably isn't the best way to share the info," Su said, grinning a bit.

"_Or_ beating them about the head with the book," added Sarah. "Even if it _would_ make you feel better."

"Well, it might if it were a hardcover," Randy grinned back.

"Yeah, maybe," said Su. "Hasn't worked for our parents yet, though, has it?"

"Yeah, I guess not." Randy looked at the table. "I guess…" She sort of shrugged, looking depressed. "I mean, here we are, trying to figure out who murdered two people, her _friends_, and she's ragging on me because I don't _like_ her enough? Because she can act like a total idiot and I'm supposed to be best friends forever because 'we both like Phantom?' Whatever."

"You could, um, maybe tell her that," said Kir hesitantly. "I mean, that we're sort of trying to help her out. Well, indirectly, I guess, but, you know… Trying to help her friends, anyways."

Randy sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I don't really want to talk to her right now, though."

* * *

_A/N:_ _Occam's Razor: A 14th Century hypothesis that states, basically, that all things being equal, the simplest explanation is the best. Next update might be as early as this weekend if you poke me enough! ;-) Reviews are very inspiring, hint, hint... ;-) ~Kryss  
_


	7. Taking Over Me

_A/N: Coming down to the crunch, now! Oh, noes!! Thanks again to my beta Biskuits! You rock, hon! Everyone go and hear her do the theme, the new art, and Christine's voice, over at The Phantom Reviewer on YouTube! (http: / / www. youtube. com/ watch? v = ErjFvsWXnr8 minus spaces of course) Please read and review! And Happy Yule; it's the Solstice! The sun is coming back! Yay! ~Kryss_

* * *

Chapter Seven: Taking Over Me

Kir did sort of feel a bit bad for Megan, though. She did sort of start it, but she had just lost two friends, too. "Hey, guys," she said quietly at lunch, "I think I'm just gonna, you know, keep her company for a bit." She nodded towards Megan sitting alone at her table, picking at her food.

"Yeah, okay, if you like," Su said. The others nodded their understanding.

"Hey, mind if I join you?" Kir asked Megan.

"It's okay. You don't have to." Megan said listlessly.

"No, it's okay." Kir sat down and picked up her sandwich.

"Why do you even hang out with them? I mean, it's like you've hated me since we met. What did I ever do to you?"

"Um. Wow." Kir put her sandwich back down. "Well, you struck me as kind of a stuck up bitch when I first met you."

"_Really_? Why?"

"Well, there was the way you kept calling me 'Captain', even when I asked you not to. And the way you talked about Randy."

"That's _it_? Jesus, I haven't even, like, _called_ you Captain in, like, _forever_."

"Yeah, I guess. But there's the way you guys keep going _on_ and _on_ about the Phantom _every night_, too…"

"You too? So _you_ think I'm an idiot for liking Phantom _too_." She sat back and crossed her arms with an 'I-should-have-known' look.

"No, I don't give a damn what you like. I just don't like _hearing_ about it. 'Oh em gee, the Phantom is so hot!' Over and over and _over_…"

"Well, he _is_ hot."

"But I don't _care_. And when you guys are all going on about it then I can't get to sleep."

"So that's it? You don't like me because we keep you awake?"

Kir thought. "Yeah, pretty much, I guess," she said, and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Then why did you come over?"

Kir shrugged. "You looked sad. And lonely." She shrugged again. "So why not?"

"Yeah." Megan looked away. "Well, we aren't gonna keep you awake talking about anything anymore."

"Um. Yeah. I guess."

"So I guess there's no more reason to hate me, is there?"

Kir sighed. "I guess not," she said wryly.

* * *

"Hey, Kir…" Megan said.

Kir finished climbing into bed. "Yeah?"

"That night. You know. The one we kept you awake… the one we all went out…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm… I'm sorry I told Miriam you went out. I just didn't want you to get us in trouble."

"Yeah, no worries," sighed Kir.

"But that night, we, um, we went out to, um, to try and summon the Phantom."

Kir was silent for a moment. Didn't Megan know she'd gone out too? No, she must have, because she hadn't been there when they got back in. But didn't she realize they had followed them? Perhaps she didn't, she thought. "Really," she said finally.

"Yeah. Um. I don't think any of us actually thought any of it would _work_. You know."

"Yeah, I guess…"

Megan raised herself onto her elbow. She looked frightened. "But I think it did. Sorta. I think we got _something_.

"I think that's what… what Melanie and Triffy heard. When they went out. You know. The singing."

"Oh?" Kir raised herself up too. "Why?"

"Um. Because… because last night I could hear it too. I'm really scared, Kir. I don't know what to do!" She started to cry.

"Oh. Oh, geez, Megan. Um." Kir cast about for something to say. "Hey, don't cry. I have an idea. Let me, let me go and get the others, okay? Sarah knows some of this stuff, I think, and, like, Randy's really smart… Let me go and grab them, 'k'? I'll be back in just a minute." She swung her legs over the side of the bunk. "Can you hang on for a minute?"

"I… I don't know." Megan cried a little harder. "His voice… It's, like, really hard to ignore, you know? If he comes calling again…"

"Well, he usually comes later at night, whatever he is, right?" At Megan's nod she continued, "So he won't be coming for a few hours yet. So let me just go and grab them, okay? I'll just be a minute." She shoved her bare feet into her shoes, threw on her jacket over her pajamas, and grabbed her flashlight. "I'll be right back, okay? It'll be easier with everyone all here with you. I promise. I'll be right back. Just hang in there." She slipped out.

The moon was darker tonight; she thumbed the flashlight on as she hurried over to The Rationalists' cabin. The bouncing light made creepy shadows all over the place as the rain trickled down her neck. She tried to ignore it all and just watch where she was putting her feet, and not totally freak out. She was so relieved to see the light of their lantern inside, though, that she almost cried. However, she was also too freaked out to knock and wait.

"Jesus, Kir!" Su yelped as she burst in, and clutched her pajamas to her chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"What is it?" asked Randy. "What's wrong?"

"It's Megan," panted Kir. "She's totally freaked out. You guys need to come over and talk to her. Right now."

"Look, if she's scared, go tell Miriam," said Su. "I don't wanna get hauled out in the middle of the night again."

"I think she knows stuff. Come on, you guys. Please? She said she thinks they _did_ summon something, and she's, like, totally freaked out. I don't want to leave her all alone over there."

Randy rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine," she said, and slipped her own shoes on. "Come on then, guys. Perhaps this is where we finally solve the Mystery of the Music Camp."

"That's a crappy title," complained Su as she dug her own shoes out, while Kir jiggled in impatience. "How about, 'Music Camp of _Doom_!'"

"That's just stupid. Sarah? You coming?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," Sarah sighed, and threw back her blankets. "'Curse of the Music Camp'?"

"Sounds like the gay sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean," snorted Su.

"Or a Hardy Boys' mystery," added Randy as she grabbed her jacket and flashlight.

"Fine then," retorted Sarah as she grabbed her own jacket, "How about 'The Strange Affair of the Phantom of the Opera'?"

"Hey, that's not bad!" said Su.

'Yeah, but it's been done to death," said Randy. "What do you think, Kir?"

"I kind of like 'I Know What You Did At Music Camp'."

Su laughed. "Or at band camp…" She led the way out.

"Except we don't have any instruments," Randy pointed out.

"The human voice _is_ an instrument," Sarah declaimed loftily.

"'This one time, at band camp…'" Su laughed, then paused. "_Ew_."

Kir was relieved to be surrounded by their good-natured teasing. The night was still dark, the shadows still spooky, but, well, it was better in a group.

Megan had been left alone, though. She had gotten pretty worked up while Kir was gone, but at least she was still in her bunk and not off roaming the woods.

"Hey, we're here," Kir said, and climbed up next to her. "How're you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Megan sniffed loudly. "I haven't heard him yet, at least."

"Heard who?" asked Su, climbing up to sit on Kir's bunk opposite.

"The guy. The guy who was singing last night," said Kir. "I think he was singing before that, too."

"What guy?" asked Sarah, sitting beside Randy on the lower bunk. "What singing?"

"Triffy said that Melanie heard some guy singing, and went out to check it out. Triffy went out to check on some voice she heard, too. I couldn't hear it, but I was asleep. She woke me up. I forgot all about that in the morning."

"Yeah, we told her that she'd just dreamed about the Phantom," said Megan, "But she said it wasn't _his_ voice. And it's _not_. But I think we maybe did summon the Phantom anyways."

"You heard it too, then?" Randy looked alert.

"I heard him last night," Megan confessed. "I mean, it's him, but it's not him…"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, I totally know what the Phantom sounds like, okay? And we tried to summon him, and now we've got this guy calling us who sounds… I don't know _what _he sounds like. I can't describe it. It's like…" She trailed off and gestured vaguely. "It's like how you always _dreamed_ you'd sound someday, you know? Only, like, your imagination wasn't good enough. And, like, a guy."

"Like an angel…" mused Randy. "Like the Angel of Music."

"No, I _told_ you; he doesn't sound like the Phantom. He sounds more like, I dunno, like the _god_ of Music, I guess."

"Yeah. That's what the Phantom is _supposed_ to sound like."

"And they cast _Gerard Butler_ instead? Jesus, wonder the purists are upset…" Su trailed off. "What?"

"So, anyways," Randy continued, looking back at Megan, "You heard this angelic singing. What was it saying?"

"_I_ dunno. It was, like, French or Spanish or something." Her eyes got distant. "But, you can still understand the _emotion_…" She shivered.

"Emotion?" Sarah prompted softly, when Megan kept quiet.

"Yeah… It was so sad, and lonely, and yearning… It was the saddest thing I ever heard. I think he's looking for Christine. And I think Me-Melanie and Triffy…" She took a deep shuddering breath. "I think they went out to, you know. Comfort him. His voice is so beautiful, and he hurts so much…"

Randy sighed and murmured, "Yeah, that's a big part of it, all right…"

"But I think…" Megan swallowed, then whispered, "I think he was really mad when they weren't Christine. I think… I think he totally strangled them, guys!"

"The Punjab lasso…"

"Yeah, that. If I go out there, I _know_ he's gonna, like, totally kill me too. And I could _still_ barely resist." She started to cry. "You guys gotta help me. If he… If he comes singing to me again, I don't think I can ignore him!"

Su looked at Randy. "Well?" she asked finally.

"Well what?"

"Well? Is it _him_?"

"The Phantom? The real one?" Randy frowned in thought. "Well, ALW's Phantom is pure fantasy, we all know that." Megan cried a little harder. "But Leroux said very explicitly in his introduction that his novel was based on real events. It's not without the bounds of impossibility that there really was _some_ kind of deformed madman floating around the basement of the Paris Opera."

"So, what, they really summoned the real Phantom?" Su snorted. "These guys can barely manage to summon pizza."

"Well, it does sorta fit…" said Kir.

"Yeah, if you accept that ghosts _and_ the Phantom are both real."

"Well, you got anything better? It fits the facts, at least." Randy looked around, defiant.

"Yeah. How about just a regular nutbar serial killer found out about the camp in the middle of nowhere with all the cute girls running around and decided to have a party, huh? I mean, _look_ at us! We're, like, a horror movie wet dream. You can practically _hear_ Freddy and Jason drooling."

"Well, okay, sure! A regular nutbar psychopath just _happens_ to stumble upon us, and just _happens_ to only start in on us after these idiots try to bring Gerik to life, and just _happens_ to use the Phantom's usual method of disposal, and just _happens_ to have an incredible voice—or did you forget about that part? Look, if he really _is_ just some nutjob, then the best thing we can do is to all hang out together and keep trying the radio, and call our parents and go _home_. In the meantime we should probably all move our sleeping bags into the dining hall; we can tell Miriam and Janet that we're, like, too freaked to sleep by ourselves out in the cabins. Besides, the toilets are right by there; if we sleep in there then no one needs to go too far to use the can.

"But if it _is_ the Phantom, I mean, like, really for _real_…" She paused and pushed her glasses up her nose. "Well, if it really _is_ him, then we're dealing with someone who is _very_ intelligent, and _very_ obsessive, and _very_ warped. He's _dangerous_. This isn't some stupid phanfic where some Gerik-obsessed phanbrat stumbles back in time and into his lair and he instantly takes her in and falls in love with her. This is a guy who used to torture people for a living. To death."

Everyone was silent for a long moment. "So what do I do?" asked Megan in a small voice.

"Is there any good in him?" asked Kir. "Anything we can maybe use?"

"Well, while Buquet did die when he fell into a trap he had rigged up, the general consensus is that it happened when Erik—"

"Who?" asked Megan.

"The Phantom, duh," snapped Randy. "My god, how the hell you can call yourself a phan—"

"Anyways, Joseph Buquet…" interjected Su quickly with a warning kick at Randy.

"Right. The general consensus is that Erik wasn't home when it happened, and that Buquet fell into an automated trap and died before he returned."

Kir perked up. "So he wouldn't have killed the guy if he had been home?"

Randy winced slightly. "Well, actually, he probably _still_ would have killed him, for discovering the secret door to his home. One of them, anyways. It's just that, the way things stand, it wasn't _deliberate_."

"Ah. Good. As long as it wasn't on _purpose_..." Su rolled her eyes.

"But Mercier and his men were only drugged."

"Who?"

"The lighting guy and his crew. He needed them out of the way while he kidnapped Christine, and he _could_ have killed them, but he only drugged their wine." She scowled. "Mind you, ALW had him actually _kill_ Piangi to take his place, but most of us agree that that was really out of character. Besides, I don't think we're dealing with Merik. Musical Erik."

"Why not?" Kir asked over Megan's muttered "_Purist_."

Randy grinned. "Fictional character. And if they could have really summoned a fictional character, they would have gotten Gerik, and we wouldn't be in this mess."

"So we're back at 'what do we do?'"

"Yeah." Randy subsided. "Anyone have any ideas?"

"Well… I do sort of have one," Sarah hesitated. "But…"

"What is it?"

"Well, usually, ghosts, just regular ones, I mean, you can usually get them to go away by laying them to rest."

"So, what, like have a priest bless the place or what?" asked Su.

"Yeah, that sort of thing."

"We don't have a priest, though," Kir pointed out, while Megan twisted the edge of her sleeping bag.

"Well, no; I mean, I know that. But sometimes you can lay them to rest by giving them what they want, too."

"Oh, like the fairytale about the jaw bone the raven dropped down the chimney… What?" Su looked back at everyone else. "My grandma told me fairytales, okay?"

"Um, yeah, like that."

"Okay, then: what does he want?" asked Randy.

"Um. Well, that's the thing. It sounds like he _wants_ Christine. But he's _calling_ Megan. He's been calling _all_ of them, but only one at a time, it sounds like. Um."

"Wait, what? You guys are just going to hand me over?" Megan looked almost as angry as scared.

"No, no; what we need to do is _talk_ to him. I mean, at the end of the story, he lets Christine go, right?" At Randy and Megan's nod Sarah continued. "Well, then, we maybe just need to remind him about that, about how he let her go, and why, and encourage him to go back to his rest. Randy?"

"Yeah…" Randy frowned. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, the whole point of the novel, the whole thing that transforms him from the standard Victorian gothic villain, is that at the end, he finds redemption, and even though he has the heroine, who has just agreed to marry him, utterly within his power, he finally realizes that he really can't ever have her love, not like she loves Raoul, and that to keep her by force would kill her, and he lets her go. It's a very moving scene."

"So you know how it all goes; _you_ should be the one to talk to him, then."

"_Me_?" squeaked Randy. "Why _me_? It's _Megan_ he wants!"

"I thought you _wanted_ the fugly old guy," smirked Megan.

"_Fugly_ doesn't matter. It's the bat-shit _insane_, irritated _killer_ that _I'm_ worried about…"

"So, what? You figure _I'll_ have better luck with him? Or you just don't _care_ if anything happens to me, is _that_ it?" Megan's face was ugly.

"Well, Christine _is_ supposed to be blond…"

"Guys, guys!" Sarah waved her hands for silence. "Guys, we're gonna need you both for this." She continued over their protests. "Randy has to be the one who talks to him; she knows him better than any of the rest of us, okay?"

"Well, the literary version, anyways…"Randy muttered. "But—"

"And if Christine is blond too, then maybe seeing Megan'll slow him down enough for Randy to start in on him."

"Yeah, because one blonde looks _exactly_ like another," Megan muttered.

"Look, it's all we've got," Su said. "Whether all this ghost crap is real or not, I figure we either deal with it here, now, while we're all together, or we wait until we leave, and, ghost or nutbar, the guy follows one of us home. So I vote we try to deal with it here." She put up her hand.

One by one, the rest of them slowly raised their hands. "Yeah, splitting up is always a bad move in the movies," Kir murmured.

"And I guess there's no way to guarantee that after he kills Megan, he won't keep coming after the rest of us… Relax, I'm joking! Don't worry, I'm in." Randy lowered her hand again and added, "I mean, really, the chance to meet the _real_ Erik? Face to _face_? What kind of a phan would I be if I passed _that_ up just because he might _kill_ me?" She grinned, although it wavered a bit.

"Fine, then." Su took charge. "Megan, let us know when you hear him. Head out; we'll cover you. Randy, as soon as you see him, go and do your thing."

"What about the rest of us?" Kir asked. All this sounded scary, even if it _was_ good to have _some_ kind of a plan, but she didn't want to be left behind, alone, either.

"We keep watch and stay back, and jump in if it looks like things are headed south," Su replied, with a confidence Kir sure didn't feel.

"Yeah, but when we jump in… what do we _do_? I mean, what _can_ we do? If it really _is_ this Erik guy, then he's some kind of a ghost, right?"

"Well, he's only gone after people who were by themselves so far," Sarah said. "I mean, when he lures them out, he only calls one person at a time, you know? I mean, no one else can hear him, right…"

"Yeah…"

"Seems so…"

"So perhaps he can't deal with more than one person at a time. Five of us should be able to take care of him. We should maybe swing by the kitchen first, though."

"Grab some knives, huh? Good idea," mused Su.

Megan looked shocked. "Knives? Hell, no!"

"But why not?" asked Kir. "I mean, what if he really is some lunatic serial killer?"

"If he is, then he'll just take them away from us, and then he'll have _knives_," said Megan. "Rule One of weapons: If you don't know how to use it, then don't bring it to a fight. All you'll be doing is arming the other guy."

"And you know this _how_?" asked Su, crossing her arms.

"Oh em _gee_, it's just common sense. Really." Megan looked at her disbelieving audience. "Oh, come _on_, you guys. No one here has played Mirror's Edge? _Ever_?"

"Well, you _are_ the only one with a brother," Su pointed out.

"Oh, like only _boys_ play video games," retorted Megan, rolling her eyes.

"Um… Anyways. Okay, so knives are perhaps a bad idea, then." Sarah shrugged. "What? She made sense."

"…And _there's_ a phrase we'll never hear again…" murmured Randy.

"Knock it off, Randy," Su gave her a kick. "So, no knives, then. Then why the kitchen?"

"Ah!" Sarah grinned. "The spice rack."

"You're kidding."

"Not hardly. Capsicum is a powerful deterrent to _any_ mammal. Garlic is just generally useful; it's not nice to get in the eyes even if you _aren't_ a vampire, and they're both traditional ghost-banishers, so good either way. Cloves are handy for that too, if there's any over there, and we can see if we can get some other stuff."

"Like what?" Kir asked, curious.

"Oh, like horseradish, leeks, sage, mint, rosemary, onions… All traditional ghost-banishers. Basil too; that one's used for protection as well, so we should all carry some of that too, if there's any there."

"Is it just coincidence that most of this stuff will really, really hurt if it gets in your eyes?" wondered Randy. "Except for maybe the leeks, I guess…"

"Oh, leeks are in the onion family too," Sarah smiled. "But yeah, I don't know. Still, if we mix up a bunch of the stuff together, then we'll have something that ought to help banish a ghost, if it's a ghost we're dealing with, and ought to at least make him lose his grip, if he's just a guy and he grabs us. I mean, a face full of cayenne pepper would probably discourage even Freddy, right?" She grinned at Kir.

"Yeah, he probably wouldn't like it," she grinned back.

"Then, like, can we go and get the stuff quickly, please?" Megan looked anxious. "I'd kind of like to have the friendly spices here already when he calls me…"

"Yeah, sure." Sarah looked around. "Do we all go? Or just me..?"

"No one goes alone," said Randy instantly. "I'll go with you."

"Yeah, I'll come, too," added Su. "You guys gonna be okay here?"

Kir didn't want to go out, not before she had to, but she didn't want to stay alone with Megan, either. "What if he starts singing before you guys are back? Nuh uh, I'm not staying here. Come on, Megan." She hopped down.

"I don't want to go out there!" Megan looked terrified again. "What if he, like, grabs me while we're out there?"

"We'll all be right there with you," reassured Su.

"And hey," added Sarah, "You'll get to the friendly spices sooner than if you stay here and wait for us to come back."

"Yeah, and if you help us mix up the stuff then you'll be so covered with it that no ghost will want to come within a _mile_ of you!" joked Randy.

"Come on," said Kir. "It'll be better than sitting here waiting, wondering what's taking them so long."

"Yeah, I guess…" Megan hopped down too.

* * *

If Kir had thought that heading out alone to get The Rationalists was hard, it was _nothing_ compared to heading out into the dark now. They were clustered as tight as they could get, flashlights in hand, but there was no joking; they didn't want the counselors to hear them and send them back to bed before they'd accomplished their mission. And it was later; the crescent moon glowed faintly behind ragged clouds. It didn't give enough light to help, but it did manage to add an unnecessarily creepy note to the already frightening night.

They had a bad moment when they got to the hall door and found it locked, but Randy guided them to a side window. "The latch hasn't worked right in years. The draft from it drives Mrs. McKay nuts, but there's nothing she can do; it won't close properly."

"How do you know that?" asked Kir, as Randy wiggled the window open.

"She was bitching about it when we were warming up, didn't you hear? Kept saying it was going to make us sick, standing there in that draft."

"Oh. No, I… I kinda tuned her out." Kir admitted.

Randy tapped the side of her nose. "Always listen to what the adults say, especially if they think you aren't listening. You'd be amazed at what you'll hear." She winked, and kicked herself up and through the frame.

A moment later her tousled hear reappeared. "Come around to the kitchen door," she whispered, straightening her glasses. "I don't need a key to open it."

By the time they had navigated past half-hidden trash cans in the near-dark, Randy was waiting for them, door ajar. "Come on," she whispered, waving them in, and closing the door carefully behind them again.

"Where the hell _is_ everything?" whispered Megan. "Where's the lights?"

"No, leave them off," Sarah murmured. "Someone might see them. Besides, there's no way I'm firing up the generator." She shone her flashlight around. "I don't see a spice rack. She must have them in a cupboard or something. Check the ones near the stove first."

They set to work.

The onions were easy to find; they were in the drawer of the propane fridge. No leeks, though. "Oh, well," whispered Randy as she grabbed a few onions. "I'd've felt like a complete moron waving _leeks_ at the Phantom of the Opera, anyways."

Kir found a small bag of cloves in a drawer; she added them to the onions. "How are we going to carry all this, guys? Does anyone have a bag or something?"

"Check under the sink," suggested Su.

The sink yielded the bag; it also had a spray bottle in it. "Smells like bleach," said Kir, taking a sniff. "Do we want it?"

"Bleach?" Sarah asked absently. "No…"

"No, I meant the bottle. It's, like, a spray one. We can maybe put some stuff in it."

"Yeah, sure; why not?" Su replied. "Dump the bleach somewhere." Kir poured it down the sink.

"Jackpot!" Megan whispered. "Come and look at this, guys! Anything here we can use?"

The others hurried over. Two cupboard doors were wide open, the missing spice racks screwed to their insides. "Perfect!" whispered Sarah. "Someone grab the bag." She began rooting through them, taking the odd small jar down. Kir held the bag open while Su grabbed the spices and began tossing them in. "Carefully!" hissed Sarah. "They're only glass. Besides, it's noisy."

Su nodded and put the rest in more carefully.

"Okay, that's it," Sarah said quietly, holding a last bottle. She carefully closed the doors, making sure they didn't thump, and turned back to the little group. "This is basil," she said, holding it up. "This is the main protection one. Here, everyone put out your hand." She shook a little out into each palm. "Rub a little on yourself," she demonstrated, rubbing the small dry leaf fragments on her neck and the undersides of her wrists, like perfume. "Put the rest in your pocket." They followed suit.

"Good," said Su. "Now let's get the hell outta—" She stopped abruptly as the front door rattled.

"Jesus!" hissed Kir in fright.

"Is it _him_?" Megan's eyes were squeezed shut.

Randy crept across the hall. "No, wait!" Su grabbed for her as she went past, but Randy waved her away, a look of intense concentration on her face.

Suddenly she stopped, then turned and dashed back to the kitchen as quietly as she could. "It's Janet!" she whispered as she bolted past, and pulled the kitchen window shut.

"_Shit_!" Su thumbed off her flashlight and headed for the back door. Kir paused just long enough to grab the bag again. They hurried outside as fast and as quietly as they could.

Su closed the door behind them and leant against it, panting in fright. "How do we lock it?" she whispered to Randy.

"We don't," she whispered back. "There's a bar. We'll have to hope they think they forgot to lock it. Come on!"

She hurried away and down the path, ducking behind a large bush. "Right," muttered Su, following. Kir and Megan found hiding places behind a fallen log; Kir didn't see what happened to Sarah.

The back door sprang open; a flashlight swept the path, lingering on the undergrowth. "…don't see anyone, but—" Janet's voice was cut off as the door swung closed again.

Kir started to get up. "Man, that was—"

Megan pulled her back down. "Wait!" she hissed.

They waited. "There's a root or something poking me," Kir complained. "What are we—"

Again, the door sprang open. This time, Janet actually came out a little ways, playing the beam of light over every possible cover she could see. She even shone it around behind the trash cans. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she snapped it off. "No, no one's there—" the door slammed shut, and Kir could hear the faint scrape of the bar being put back into place again.

"Jesus," she said, with feeling, and dropped her head to her arms. "How did you know?" she added, tilting her head to look at Megan. She was feeling a sudden urge to giggle.

Megan grinned as she rose and dusted herself off. "Used to play Doorbell Ditch when I was little," she said, and reached down to pull Kir upright. "This one neighbor, he would _totally_ do that, every time. My friend kept falling for it, too, and as soon as he went back in, she'd come out and start heading back down the driveway. Then he'd jump out again and catch her." She giggled suddenly. "She got in _so_ much trouble for it, but she'd never listen when I told her to wait."

Randy and Su laughed softly, catching the end of it. "I almost peed myself when she came out again," confessed Randy. "We only stayed down because Su banged her knee when she bailed and couldn't get up anyways."

"Where's Sarah?" asked Kir.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she replied, "Right here," from right behind her. "Got the stuff?" she continued. Kir held up the bag. "Good. Come on, let's get back. I don't want to mix this stuff up in the dark."

* * *

_A/N: __Mirror's Edge__ is a first-person game in which you actually __can __disarm a guy and then beat him in the head with his own rifle (check YouTube for the trailer, from EA Games), and it actually __is__ good advice. Swords are better; harder to take one away from even an inexperienced fighter without injuring yourself badly, but knives? Unless you know what you're doing, fugeddaboudit._

_And they probably wouldn't have any swords hidden away, even in the kitchen, lol._

_Thanks to the guys on the Airsoft18 forum for helping me find a game that matched my specs!_

_I hope you like some of the titles the girls come up with for their situation. It reflects my own troubles with coming up with a title, heh; the working title of this phic has been "Music Camp of DOOM!!!" XD  
_

_Oh, and yeah, all the herbs mentioned are __supposed__ to be good for banishing ghosts and evil spirits. But I don't think you just fling handfuls of them around; there's rituals that go with them, and, as the girls pointed out, most of it is nasty stuff to get into your eyes (or any mucous membrane, the pepper in particular), so __don't__ go trying to banish ghosts at home like this. The (very, very few lol) instructions in this phic are __not__ correct. ;-) ~K_


	8. Understanding

_A/N: Merry Christmas! Happy Yule! Joxeus Noel, Felix Navidad, Happy Hannukah, Happy Ramadan, and all the rest! The sun is returning!!!_

_Complete coincidence, but look! The next chapter is the climax! And it's a nice, long one, too. So here you go, and Merry Everything! _

_Dear Santa, for Yule this year I'd like lots of reviews from everyone who reads this. I've been very good and updated regularly and everything. Thanks, ~Kryss ;-)_

* * *

Chapter 8: Understanding

"We should have grabbed cutting boards or something," Kir complained. She was doing her best to mince an onion as fine and juicy as she could, but a pocket knife and a plastic bag on the floor was _not_ the same as a counter and a proper knife. Or a dicer. Better yet, a blender. The fumes were making her eyes water.

"They would have missed them," said Su. "Besides, we were a bit distracted."

"Yeah," said Megan. "Like, who was she talking to, anyways? And why'd she come over?"

"I bet it was Mrs. McKay," said Randy, trying unsuccessfully to pound a heap of cloves into powder with the heel of a shoe. "Her cabin is right by there; she probably looked out the window at just the right time and saw the flashlights or something."

"_Wrong_ time, you mean," grunted Su. "Damn. This stuff reeks, Sarah."

"Yeah, I know," Sarah commiserated. "But it should help. You done with that onion, Kir?"

Kir sat back and looked at the pulpy mess. "Yeah, it's as diced as it's gonna get. Is the garlic ready, Su?"

"Pretty much. We just mix it all together, Sarah?"

"Yeah. You may as well add the cloves too, Randy."

"Yeah." Randy brushed cloves off the sole and tossed it aside in disgust. "Sneakers are too damned soft to crush anything with."

"I don't think I'm gonna get the rosemary or whatever this is any smaller, either." Megan hopped down off her bunk and poured what looked like a handful of crushed dried pine needles on top of the onion mess. The others added theirs, and Sarah borrowed Kir's knife to stir it all together, muttering under her breath as she did so.

"What, is that, like, magic or something?" asked Su.

"In a manner of speaking," Sarah replied absently. "Who has that spray bottle?"

"Here," Kir handed it over. "So, that was, like, a spell?" she asked, curious, as Sarah unscrewed the top.

"Mmm. More of a… um, sort of telling the, um, the spirits of the spices what we're going to be doing with them, and asking for their help." Sarah sounded faintly embarrassed.

"Why the knife? Could you have just used your finger, or was that part of the spell?"

"Well, it wouldn't have hurt anything if I used my finger, but if I went and forgot and rubbed my eyes… Plus the knife is, like, more formal. Here, hold the bottle." She carefully gathered up the mushy mess in the bag, and squeezed the juice out into the bottle. She only got an ounce or two, but it sure did reek.

"Too bad we don't still have Melanie's anathame around," mused Randy. "I mean, if a jack knife makes a difference."

"A knife is a knife," Sarah said, screwing the top back on. She gave the trigger a few experimental pulls, priming the sprayer. "An anathame isn't any more effective than a bread knife; it just costs more. Plus it's more obvious."

"Obvious? Obviously what?"

"Obviously some kind of ritualistic tool. At best, people are gonna think you're, like, some kind of D&D freak or something. If you just use a regular jack knife no one asks weird questions. Except for you guys," she grinned.

"So what do we do with the rest?" asked Su. "I mean, I guess we take it with us, but I don't really want to be hauling around a handful of that crap…"

"Don't insult the spices," Sarah chided. "Not when we're asking for their help. Anyways, we can just cut the bag up and make sachets, sort of."

Doing so was easier (and less messy) to say than to do, but somehow they managed, although they all reeked pretty heavily by the time they were done. "Damn, I smell like I tripped in an Italian kitchen!" complained Su. "I sure hope this stuff works."

"It will," Sara assured them. "I've used a mix like this before. It'll work fine on ghosts."

"And if he's just some nutbar serial killer, all I'm going to have to do is rub my hands in his eyes," said Kir, trying to wipe the worst of the mess off her hands. "Ugh."

"Yeah, that's a good point," said Sarah. "Until you get a chance to scrub your hands really, really well, make sure you don't rub your eyes!"

"Don't pick your nose, either," grinned Randy.

"_Ew_."

"Yeah, don't be gross, Randy," laughed Kir.

"Oh em gee, you guys," said Megan, rolling her eyes, "Do you always have to—" She stopped suddenly, stiffening.

"What is it?" Kir asked, worried.

"Do you guys hear that?" asked Megan in a small voice. She sounded scared.

"No… Guys?" Kir looked around as Randy peeked out a window, but everyone shook their heads. "Is it him?"

"Yeah." Megan huddled her arms to her chest. "Guys, I can't do this. I can't go out there."

"You _can_ do it," Kir said.

"You _have_ to do it," added Su, looking worried. "We can't keep getting together like this every night—we're gonna get caught."

"He's totally going to _kill_ me! Oh God, why won't he _shut up!_" She pressed her fists over her ears, squeezing her eyes tight shut.

"Come on," Sarah said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "We'll all be there with you. We'll be right behind you. We won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"Besides, you're _soaking_ in the friendly spices," added Kir.

"Plus, dude, it's the _Phantom_ of the _Opera_," said Su. "Like, the _Phantom_! How can you _resist_?"

"I _can't_ resist!" Megan rocked back and forth. "I don't know what to _do_…"

"Don't do anything," Sarah said gently, pulling Megan's hands down. "Just listen to him. It'll be okay."

Megan stared into her eyes for a minute. "He needs me," she said finally. "I have to go." Her face crumpled. "But I'm _scared_!" she wailed.

"It's okay," said Kir. "Here, don't think about it. Just get your shoes on. No big deal." She bent over and stuffed Megan's sneaker onto her foot, and laced it up as Su grabbed the other one.

"Here, put your jacket on." Sarah helped to feed her arms in.

"He's really the Phantom?" Megan squeaked.

"Yeah," Su replied, "It's really him. The Phantom of the goddamned Opera. Just like you always dreamed."

"Okay. I can do this. I think. If it's the Phantom." She paused, then added, "But it doesn't _sound_ like the Phantom…"

"He sounds like the Phantom's _supposed_ to sound," said Randy. "You know. Amazing."

"Right. Really the Phantom. I can do this."

"You _totally_ can, Megan!" Kir encouraged.

"The Phantom. Right." Megan stood up, and headed for the door, but hesitated.

"Are you _sure_ he's the Phantom?"

"_Yes_, he's the _Phantom_!" they chorused back.

"But wait," said Randy. "This is important—"

"I _know_ it's important! I wouldn't be going out there if it wasn't!" Megan was beginning to look a little wild-eyed again.

"Yeah, I know. But _listen_! This is really important. I don't know if he's got his mask on or not. But either way, he's _not_ Gerik!"

"I know that!"

"No, I mean, _really_. He's gonna be really scary-looking, okay? Even if he _does_ have his mask on."

"Randy, I don't think this'll help…" Kir said helplessly, but Randy cut her off.

"No, dammit, this is _important_! If you go out there expecting Gerik, then you're gonna freeze when you see the _real_ Erik. You might even scream. And if you show you're _afraid_ of him, then he _will_ _kill_ you."

"Not helping, Randy," Megan muttered.

"_Listen_!" Randy had a slightly wild look about her; Kir was afraid she was going to grab Megan and shake her. "When he thought that Christine loved him, _he was gentle with her_. He was a _total_ _gentleman_. Stay _calm_, speak _softly_, and _don't_ let him see that he _scares_ you."

"But he _does_ scare me," Megan said, clutching her jacket tight.

Kir had a sudden flash of inspiration. "_Pfft_," she said, waving away Megan's objections. "He's just a _guy_. A _music teacher_. He's just some cranky old music teacher guy. _You_ can take him."

"Yeah," added Su. "Remember that cow Mrs. Adams, the first year? Remember what you did to her?"

Megan's back straightened slightly; she grinned slightly nastily. "What did she do?" Kir whispered to Randy.

"Let's just say Mrs. Adams never came back for a second go, and leave it at that," Randy whispered back.

"Yeah. Yeah, just some music teacher guy." Megan's chin rose.

"Some _old_ music teacher guy," added Sarah.

"Some lame-ass, skinny old bastard music teacher guy," chorused Randy, adding quietly to Kir, "And Erik forgive me for saying that…"

"Right!" Megan's eyes flashed. "Don't think I'm _good_ enough, huh? Don't like my choice in _music_, huh? We'll just see about _that_!"

"Right on!" Su grabbed the lantern off the table as Sarah opened the door. "You go, girl!"

"Go, Megan!"

"Go slap a bitch, girl!"

"Right! Take _this_, Mr. Phantom!" Megan stalked through the door.

"Think she's got a shot?" Kir asked Randy as they grabbed their own flashlights and hurried after.

"What? Of winning? Or of surviving?" Randy grinned humorlessly.

"Either."

"Ask me in an hour."

* * *

Megan was a pale shape at the edge of the lantern light. The girls kept their flashlights off, as agreed. Kir had a firm grip on her squishy little bundle of ghost-repelling spices inside her pocket, though; the others, she noted, all had hands in their pockets, too.

All but Megan. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, now, not clenched in angry defiance. She was almost ghostly herself in the wan moonlight, her hair a pale cloud down her back. She floated smoothly along the path, like she was almost waltzing to the singing only she could hear. Not at all like her usual exuberant bounce. It was freaky.

All was silent.

They followed her down the path to the fire pit, but hung back at the edges of the clearing as she entered the ring of logs and stood, alone, silently waiting.

She didn't have long. The drizzle eased off, and a cool breeze seemed to blow the moon clear of the clouds. Kir jumped and almost screamed. Somehow, between one heartbeat and the next, what she would have _sworn_ were nothing but elongated shadows, cast by the branches, somehow became the elongated figure of a man.

He still looked wrong, though. He was too thin, much too thin. And too tall; even with just the black silhouette he seemed to be nothing more than a skeleton. He had no face. Two patches of yellow light flashed in a darker shape against the night.

Kir heard Randy exhale. "The black silk mask," she breathed, almost too quietly for Kir to hear. "He's got his mask on, at least. My god. It really _is_ him."

The black silhouette glided closer to Megan, his pace unnaturally smooth. It gestured, _like a prince inviting her to dance_, thought Kir, and Megan began to sing, to harmonize. It sounded weird without the main melody to support it, and it made Kir's neck prickle. But then, ever so slightly, she thought she could _just_ hear a hint of the song she was singing to. Of his _voice_.

Megan, though, was in trouble. Her singing didn't sound too bad to Kir, certainly not as bad as The Rationalists seemed to think. She was definitely better than Kir. But the man, the shadow of a man, seemed to think differently. He leant towards her again, but this time, rather than a courteous partner, every line of his body implied threat. Megan's voice faltered, and his hand snaked out to her throat—

"_Monsieur le __Fantôme__! __Attendez__!_"

Kir could feel Randy shaking beside her, but her voice was steady. Well, considering. The—Kir couldn't really see its—his?—head, but the eyes shifted suddenly as if he had whipped his head around to stare in their direction. "_Qui __est __là__?__"_

"_C'est__ moi__, monsieur_." Randy stepped forward. "Uh, _parlez-vous__ l'anglais__?"_

"_Et pour __quel__ raison? __Vous __parlez __français_."

"Um, _je __parle__ le __français __tres__ mal, monsieur. __Je __suis__ américaine__."_

"_Évidemment*_. What is it that you want?" His voice, that incredible voice, was dry. Megan's knees had buckled; she looked about to faint, Kir thought. She still dangled from his hand, ignored. Kir was pretty sure she was still alive, though, although she wasn't moving too much.

"I want to help you, Monsieur." Randy took another step forward.

"Really. And that is for why? What help is it that you think I need?"

"You don't belong here. This isn't your time. I want to help you find peace."

The man—ghost?—shade—growled low in his throat. "Peace! What have I ever known of peace? The only peace I ever found was Christine. These ones—" he shook Megan roughly—"These ones called me back from the dark and promised me Christine! And they have given me what? Nothing but foolish weeping _girls_ with no _voices_ at _all_." He shook her again like a rag doll before flinging her aside. Megan crumpled at his feet in a boneless heap. He stepped over her, ignoring her, and advanced on Randy, menace in every pace. "And now _you_ promise me _peace_! What peace can _you_ bring to me, _girl_?"

Randy was shaking so bad Kir could hear her teeth chatter, but she stood her ground. Perhaps she _couldn't_ move. But as the dark shape reached for her in turn, she managed to squeak out one word. "_Erik_."

He paused, his hand still outstretched, his fingers almost brushing her throat. "_Qu'avez-vous__ dit__?_" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Erik." Randy swallowed visibly. "Erik, Christine's not here. She's gone. She went long ago. Don't you remember? _You let her go_."

"_Je__… __je__ l'ai __libéré__. __Oui__. __Quand__… __quand__ elle__ m'a__ embrassé__…" _The two golden glows winked out as though he closed his eyes.

"Yes, that's right," Randy said softly, leaning away slightly from the fingers that still almost brushed her throat. "When she kissed you, and cried with you, and did not die!"

He covered his face with his hands suddenly, gave a great sob, and was still for a long time. Finally he asked, "What became of her?" His voice was strangely unmuffled despite his hands.

"You let her go," Randy repeated, her voice sympathetic. "You let her go, and she promised to return to bury you—and she did."

The man—the Phantom—sighed. "She was a good girl…" He dropped his hands. "Was she…was she happy? With him?"

"You know the answer to that," Randy replied gently.

Su spoke suddenly in Kir's ear, making her jump. "Come on. If we're quiet we might be able to sneak around behind him and get Megan out of there. I think she's hurt."

"What about… what about _him_?" Kir swallowed. "Won't he notice?"

"He's too focused on Randy," Su whispered back. "We may not have another chance. Come _on_!" She tugged on Kir's arm, and they carefully edged away.

Kir really wanted to hear the rest of it, but they were both speaking so quietly that she couldn't listen and watch her feet at the same time. She followed slowly through the bush after Su, moving as carefully and quietly as she could. She didn't have any concentration left over for listening; it was hard enough to remember to breathe.

Megan had fallen perhaps thirty feet from where Kir had been standing, but Kir thought that, sneaking around the side through the bush, they must have covered a hundred feet, easy. It took a long time before they were crouched down next to her.

"Is she…" Megan was limp; when Kir touched her cheek it was cool.

"She's fine. She's just unconscious. Grab her feet."

Kir really, _really_ didn't want to take even those few steps closer to that spooky bastard, let alone turn her back on him, but Su had already bent down and was easing her hands under Megan's arms. Kir scurried over and did her best to get a grip on Megan's legs. Grabbing handfuls of her jeans behind her knees sort of helped, and between the two of them, they half carried, half dragged her away and into the bush.

"How far should we go?" Kir gasped as quietly as she could. "I don't know if I can carry her much—" She tripped over a root or something and almost dropped her. "Dammit, I can't _see_ anything!"

"The further the better," Su grunted, tripped, and fell on her ass. "_Fuck_."

Kir dropped Megan's legs and helped roll her off Su. "Why hasn't she woken up?" She asked.

"I don't know," Su said shortly. "We really need to get her into bed and warm, but we can't carry her that far. Come on." She brushed the larger sticks and things away, took off her jacket, and spread it out. "Help me move her over," she said, and grabbed her arms again.

Kir grabbed Megan's knees again, and together they manhandled her onto the jacket. They used Kir's jacket as a blanket.

"Can you do anything?" Kir whispered anxiously, as Su lifted Megan's eyelids and felt her pulse.

"Not really. It's too dark, and I only know basic stuff anyways. I think she's just had a shock. Her pulse is okay, I think, though, and she's breathing, at least. Do you know any first aid?"

"Um, I can splint a broken arm, I guess. If I can remember how. And I think I can remember some CPR…"

"Okay, then, you go and keep an eye on Randy and them," Su whispered. She sat down and lifted Megan's head into her lap. "I'll keep an eye on Megan. If I need you, I'll—I'll hoot like an owl. Okay?"

"'k'," whispered Kir, and crept away.

The Phantom's back was still to her; she couldn't see what was happening past him very well. He was really, really skinny, almost like a stick figure of a man in the dark, but ragged clouds were blowing past the moon and she couldn't figure out what was happening in the thin shifting moonlight for a minute.

The sound of chanting came faintly to her ears, though, although she couldn't make out what was being said. If she squinted she could kind of see Sarah standing next to Randy, waving her arms around. _She must be doing a banishing or something_, Kir thought.

She didn't know what to expect; something like a flash of light maybe, or, like, maybe there'd be a rustling creepy noise and, like, there'd be all these other ghosts dragging him away like in that Whoopie Goldberg movie her mom liked. At the least there should have been a rumble of thunder or a bolt of lightning or something. But all that happened was that the shadowy stick figure of a man seemed to tremble suddenly, and then he just… blew away, like smoke in the wind.

In the growing moonlight Randy turned to Sarah and buried her face in her shoulder, as an owl hooted in the distance.

_An owl! Shit!_ thought Kir, and dashed back to Su.

* * *

Megan was still lying in Su's lap, shivering violently now, but her eyes were open. "Wh-wh-wha'appen'?" she mumbled, looking terrified.

"He just disappeared," Kir said. "I'm not sure, but I think it's over."

"We need to get her inside," Su said, as they heard Sarah call "Guys?" in the distance.

"Get them over here to help," ordered Su.

Kir picked her way back to the clearing as fast as she could and waved them over. "Where's Megan?" asked Sarah as they jogged over.

"Back here," Kir said, leading the way. "Su's with her. She's awake, but Su wants to get her inside. We need your help."

"Is she okay? Oof." Sarah bumped into Kir as she stopped by Megan and Su.

"Let's just get her inside," Su said shortly. "Come on, Megan," she added, "You have to sit up now."

Between the four of them they managed to get her upright; they linked hands to make a seat. Somehow they managed to get her back to the clearing without falling or dropping her, and struggled back up the path.

"Where should we go?" asked Kir. "Our cabin?"

"No, not warm enough," grunted Su. "Kitchen."

"I'll go get Mrs. McKay," volunteered Randy. She disengaged and dashed off.

By the time the rest of them had manhandled a still-blurry Megan to the hall, Randy was holding the door open for them, Janet beside her.

"Put her on the chairs next to the stove," ordered Janet, and led the way inside.

"Told 'em she fell off her bunk," Randy whispered as they went past.

Mrs. McKay was blowing gently on the small flames licking the kindling in the big wood stove. "Put her right there, girls," she said, gesturing to several chairs pushed together to make a rough bench. "Help her lie down if she wants to, and then get some more lanterns lit, please."

Megan sank onto the hard chairs with a sigh. Kir helped her to arrange herself without pushing them apart, as Janet came over carrying the single lit lantern.

"Hold this," she ordered, thrusting it at Kir, and knelt to examine Megan. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Um, she fell out of her bunk?" Kir said uncertainly. "I think… I think she was having a nightmare or something. I'm not sure. I was sort of asleep myself…"

Janet glanced at her but didn't say anything. Kir wasn't sure she believed her, though. Still, she pretty much ignored Kir as she finished her careful examination, and left Miriam to cover her with a scratchy-looking blanket she'd just arrived with.

Janet stood up and looked at Kir, then the others. She still didn't say anything, but she seemed to be thinking hard. Behind them, Mrs. McKay swung the stove closed with a clang, making the girls jump guiltily. Janet sighed.

"Megan, you stay here and get warm. The rest of you, come with me. Kirsten, bring the lantern." She turned and headed out into the darkness of the hall. The rest of them glanced uneasily at each other and followed, as Mrs. McKay noisily filled the large kettle at the sink.

Janet was sitting at one of the tables. Kir set the lantern in the middle as they sat opposite her, relieved to be rid of it. She kept thinking she was going to burn her hand on it.

Janet looked at them and sighed. "Look. Don't tell me any stories about Megan falling out of her bunk, all right? You're all dressed, you all look freezing, and you're all covered with twigs and leaves. I know you were all wandering around outside again. But we'll deal with that later, okay? Right now I need to know what _really_ happened to Megan, because I can't help her if I don't know what injuries to look for, okay? She hasn't got any goose eggs on her head, she's not bleeding, and there's no broken bones. I know she didn't fall. So what happened?"

The girls slowly looked at each other. Finally, Su nodded. "She got pretty shaken up," she said.

"Yes, I can see that she's shaken, but what happened?" Janet said, a bit impatiently.

"No, like, you know, shaken. Pretty hard." Su mimed shaking someone by their throat. "She might have whiplash."

"He dropped her too, but she went down pretty gently," Kir added. "She was already on her knees."

"Who shook her?" When no one answered, she added sharply, "I don't care _why_ you're trying to protect them—"

"No, no," Sarah jumped in; "We're not trying to protect anyone. It's not like that."

"We just don't think you'll believe us," grumbled Randy, slouching a little lower in the chair.

Janet sat back and crossed her arms. "Try me."

So they did. They really did. They told Janet about the girls from Cabin C trying to summon the Phantom of the Opera. They told her of their suspicions that he had killed Melanie and Triffy ("Hell, we even _proved_ it," Randy grumbled later). They told her of him calling to Megan too ("That was the weird singing Triffy said that Melanie said she had heard," interjected Kir), and of the kitchen raid (at which Janet rolled her eyes), and of the final confrontation with the Phantom, and of the banishing ("Laying him to rest," Sarah corrected). And they told her about hauling Megan's semi-conscious butt through the woods to the hall.

Kir was pretty sure that was the only part that Janet believed. Okay, maybe she believed them about the kitchen raid, too. But she was _positive_ that Janet had thoroughly dismissed the rest of it. And she was pretty sure the others were thinking the same thing; she could see it on their faces.

And sure enough, after taking a minute after they wound down to absorb it all, the condescending began. "I'm sure this has been a very difficult time for you all," Janet began, "And I can understand why you're trying to tie all of this in with your little 'magic spell.' It's perfectly natural; our brains want to make sense of the world, and so sometimes they… Sometimes they come up with stories to tell us, that seem to fit everything we know, but it doesn't mean it's actually true. It's like the way people used to think that thunder was giants in the sky, because that was the only way they could explain it—"

"This wasn't some sort of mass hallucination!" Su began angrily, but Sarah patted her arm.

"It's okay, really," she said. "I know it all seemed really real at the time, but, well, she's right; it's totally not possible to just summon a ghost that easily. Right? Especially not the ghost of a fictional character." She glanced meaningfully at Kir and Randy.

"Yeah, I guess not," mumbled Randy, looking sullen. "Sure did fit the _facts_ nicely, though."

"Yeah, but Sarah's right; it's totally not possible. Not for real." Kir grimaced, but gamely played along. "We were probably all just getting too caught up in 'Phantom,'" she couldn't help adding.

Su glared at her for a moment, but as Kir struggled to keep a straight face she relaxed. "Yeah, I guess maybe it was some kind of mass hallucination at that. You know. All those tree shadows and stuff."

Janet looked relieved. "There you go. Well, maybe now that 'the Phantom' has been defeated everything can go back to normal, huh? There's only a week to go until the recital, and we want you to all sound your best!" She smiled at them, a bit too brightly.

She seemed to take their half-hearted mumbles as enthusiastic agreement. "Wonderful. Oh! And I see that Mrs. McKay has something nice and hot for you all to drink. Why don't you all go and get warmed up, and then get back to bed? It's way past Lights Out."

She stood, smiled at them all again, and hurried back into the kitchen. Kir could see her bending over Megan again.

"Well, that could have gone better," muttered Randy. If she slumped any lower, Kir was pretty sure she'd slide off the chair.

"Well, what did you all _expect_?" asked Sarah bitterly. "Did you all think she'd just take our _word_ for it? You guys barely believed _me_, and you _saw_ that there was weird stuff going on. None of us wanted to believe Randy about Melanie, and we all _saw_ her hanging there. We _saw_ she couldn't have done it by herself, and we _still_ didn't want to believe it was murder. So why the hell should _Janet_ believe us when we tell her that some stupid fictional character killed them after they somehow summoned him from beyond the grave?" She snorted. "Now you know why I don't wear a pentagram or anything openly."

Su sighed. "Yeah… Still blows, though."

"Look on the bright side," said Kir. "At least she just thinks our over-active, stressed-out teenage brains were playing tricks on us. She _could_ be calling our parents to come and have us committed."

"Yeah, I guess there's that," admitted Randy. She got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. "It _wasn't_ all a dream, was it, guys? I mean, _you_ all saw him too, right?"

"Yeah, we did," said Kir.

Su added, "Megan didn't do that to herself. Jesus, I almost peed myself when he started shaking her like that!"

Sarah just said, "It was real," and looked at her hands.

"Wow. Guys, you know what that _means_?" Randy grinned suddenly. "I _totally_ met the Phantom!"

* * *

_A/N: *(translated from the French, just in case) "Mr. Phantom! Wait!" "Who's there?" "It's me, Mister. Do you speak English?" "Why? You speak French." "I speak French really badly, Mister. I'm American." "Obviously."_

_And, later,_

"_What did you say?" and "I… I let her go. Yes. When… when she kissed me."_

_One more chapter to go! Stuff my stockings with reviews and I'll post it Saturday, lol! ~Kryss  
_


	9. The End

_A/N: Well, here you go! I hope you've enjoyed my foray into my first modern phic! Thanks for coming along for the ride, thanks again to my beta Biskiuts, who rocks awesomely, and thank you again to anyone and everyone who reviewed! ~Kryss_

* * *

Chapter 9: The End

They stopped by Kir's cabin long enough for her to grab her sleeping bag and pajamas, and headed to bed. "It's been a really freaky night," Kir had told Janet, "And I really don't want to be in there all by myself." Megan was being kept under the counselors' observation, just in case. "Besides," she added to the others as she spread out her sleeping bag on their floor, "It totally reeks of onions and garlic and stuff in there. It's like we killed a vampire in the middle of the Olive Garden or something."

They accidentally slept through breakfast, but Mrs. McKay had kept a plate of pancakes warm for them, so at least they didn't starve. The schedule was a bit off for the lessons, anyways. Miriam looked even more tired than they felt, and, for the first time in days, the sun was out. The kids were in a party mood, and Miriam seemed too worn out to make them settle down.

"I guess the friendly spices worked, then," said Su, shading her eyes with her hand as they stepped out into unaccustomed warmth.

"Yeah, them and Sarah," Randy added conscientiously.

"Hey, Sarah," Kir asked quietly as they walked down the path to their first lesson, "Did the friendly spices help? I mean, do they actually _do_ anything? Or are they just, you know, like some sort of confidence builder? You know, like Dumbo's magic feather."

"Oh, they helped," replied Sarah. "The banishing was a lot easier with them there."

"Yeah, but, I mean, Megan still got pretty beaten up. I mean, she _reeked_ of the stuff; we all did. Do." She wrinkled her nose. There was still a lingering smell of garlic about her hands. "And he _still_ totally grabbed her and stuff. Did it help at all?"

Sarah sighed. "Yeah, they _did_ help, but, well, like, if you've got a tool box in your trunk, it doesn't stop you from breaking down, right? It just means you've got the tools there to help fix it again. The herbs are like that."

"So they helped, but you had to do stuff with them? Like, when you did the banishing and stuff, but not so much when we just had them in our pockets? And on our hands and stuff, ugh…" She was pretty sure she'd smell for the rest of the week.

"For banishing a ghost, they helped _me_. If he really _was_ just some nutbar serial killer or what, though, you'd have wanted them in _your_ pocket, too, though, right?"

Kir thought about what it would have been like to get a handful of the mushy mess in the face. "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess…"

"Why? Did you think I made us all raid the kitchen just to distract Megan and make her feel better?"

"No, not really… Well, maybe a little bit…" She grinned.

"Well, I didn't. Okay, maybe a little bit." Sarah grinned back as the class arranged itself.

* * *

Kir spent the next two nights with The Rationalists again. There was still no sign of Megan; camp rumor had it that she was either holed up on the first aid cot in the Hut, or that she had been driven into emergency in the middle of the night. The other kids seemed pretty agreed that it was because she had hurt herself falling out of her bunk, though, which made Kir wonder if the counselors had spread that around themselves. She did hear two girls giggling in the can that Megan was sick because she was pregnant, and that she had been kicked out of camp because she'd kept sneaking off to meet some guy.

"God, that's so _stupid_," Kir told them as she cleaned her hands. "She just had a nightmare and fell out of bed. I was _there_; I helped carry her out. God, where would you even _get_ such a retarded idea? I _promise_ you, she totally never ever even _once_ snuck out to meet up with some guy. I _know_. I'm sharing her cabin."

"Yeah, _right_," one of them whispered to the other.

"Just ess tee eff yu, okay? God, who the hell would she be meeting, huh? There's nobody else for _miles_ around. What was she supposed to _do_, huh, call her boyfriend up on the _phone_ and then meet him in the pouring freezing _rain_ for some hot sex in the middle of the _woods_? God, try to not be so _stupid_, okay? There aren't any helmets out here for you to wear. Try not to walk into a tree and break your neck or anything, retards." She stalked out, trying her very best to make the crappy spring-loaded door slam behind her.

* * *

Megan showed up again on Wednesday morning. Kir saw her climbing gingerly down from the camp minivan. She had a foam brace around her neck, and her eyes still looked a bit bruised, but she seemed okay.

"Hey, Megan!" Kir jogged over. "How're you doing? Are you okay? Where have you been?"

Megan smiled, a bit wanly. "I'm fine. Well, I mean, I've got a bit of almost-whiplash, and I had a minor concussion, kind of, but basically I'm okay, I guess." She winced and touched the brace. "I can kind of turn my head, but they're making me wear this stupid thing so my neck gets better quicker." She rolled her eyes. "I look like a total dork in it."

"Naw, you look like someone who fell out of their bunk," Kir told her.

"Oh yeah? Is _that_ what they're telling people? That I'm a total klutz? Great."

"No; apparently you had a nightmare and fell out of bed. I guess you just landed really badly. You're probably lucky you didn't break your neck." She grinned.

"Well, I guess that's not so bad," Megan said grudgingly. "At least I didn't, like, trip over a shoelace and fall on a tree or something." She kind of half-grinned back.

"So, are you back to stay now, or what?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the rest of it." She pulled a face. "The doctors wanted Mom to take me home, I think—oh em gee, they _totally_ wouldn't tell me _anything_! Seriously, they treated me like I was, like, _five_ or something. But, like, Mom's totally on her summer holidays and couldn't get home any earlier. Whatever."

"So you'll be back in our cabin again?" Kir asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I guess. Why? You sound sorta happy about it."

Kir laughed, a little embarrassed. "Well, it's been too creepy in there all by myself, after all this; _you_ know. So I've been crashing over at The Rat—over with Su and Randy and them. But there's, like, totally no spare bed, and my back's been getting really sore…"

"Jeez, Kir, why didn't you just haul your mattress over from the bunk?"

"Because there's totally no room for it. And I totally didn't think of it. Thanks a lot, Megan," Kir laughed. "Way to make me feel like an idiot."

Megan laughed too. "Well, at least you don't have to haul it back again for tonight, anyways. Come on. I'll help you carry your stuff back if you like."

"Forget it, gimp!" Kir grinned. "I don't want to get blamed for you hurting yourself more! Besides, it's just my sleeping bag and a few clothes. I got it."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Refuse my help. See if I care."

"I'll cope somehow. Just don't start going on about how hot the Phantom is! I don't think I could handle that right now. It's been so nice and quiet and peaceful…"

Megan sobered. "Yeah, I don't think you need to worry about that," she said, looking away. "I mean, I still think _Gerry's_ pretty hot, but… well. You know."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry." Kir was silent a moment, then added, "Just don't start up then about how hot _Gerry_ is, okay?"

Megan rolled her eyes. "I'll try to restrain myself." She paused, then added casually, "So how do you feel about Star Trek..?"

Kir laughed. "Forget it! I've already heard how _that_ conversation ends up."

Megan grinned. "Okay, fine then, _Captain_!"

* * *

What with one thing and another, despite the classes, Kir almost forgot about the recital. After everything that had happened, to be sitting outside in the sunshine again doing breathing exercises made it feel like they were back in the first week, with another two weeks to go before they had to stand up and sing in front of everyone. And her mom. Okay, and probably her dad, too. Well, possibly. Luckily, he didn't really come out to school plays and things all that much, so she didn't have to worry so much about embarrassing herself in front of him. Just, like, totally embarrassing herself _anyways_, and then having to tell him about it afterwards. Or having to listen to her mom tell him about how _cute_ she had been when she'd, like, fallen off the stage or totally lost her voice or something.

She clenched her hands together in an effort to stop the shaking, and hoped that if she _did_ go and fall off the stage, she'd at least be lucky enough to break her neck and die right there…

"Hey, Kir," Sarah came over. She looked pretty in the dark blue choral robes the counselors had handed out. They went well with her dark hair. Kir felt like she was wearing a bag.

"Hey, Sarah."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, a bit… Does it show?" She tried to grin, but she was pretty sure she failed. Her tummy was doing unpleasant flip-flops.

"Yeah, a bit…" Sarah regarded her with sympathy for a moment. "Hang on. I'll be back in a sec."

Everyone was waiting out behind the dining hall, set up now as a basic auditorium, while their parents filed in and arranged themselves in the neat rows of wooden dining chairs. In a minute, Miriam would, if all went as planned, shuffle them into order and lead them through the back door and onto the little dais. Kir was glad that they'd start with one of the few group songs; she _really_ didn't want to be the first solo act. But she really _more_ didn't want to go out there at _all_…

She heard the kitchen door slam shut, and looked up. She still couldn't hear it without jumping. But it was just Sarah, dashing back with her robes held around her waist, out of the dirt. She was still wearing her jeans underneath. Kir wished she'd thought of that.

"Here!" Sarah held out a small bottle. "Smell this."

Kir eyed it. "More friendly spices?"

Sarah laughed. "Yeah, I guess. It's just thyme. It's an anti-anxiety. Go ahead and smell it; it'll help with the nerves. It's like aromatherapy."

The thyme had a pleasant, slightly grassy aroma, and it did seem to help. Kir was still a bit nervous, but after a few deep sniffs she felt better about it, and her stomach settled down. "Wow, this is pretty good stuff!" she exclaimed. "You should totally market this."

Sarah laughed. "Dude, there's no point. You can buy it in bulk at the grocery store."

"Yeah, but still. That's just for, like, cooking. You could sell it as some kind of a magic calming magic herb or something." She tried to hand it back, but Sarah waved it away.

"Aw, it's been done. No, hang onto it; if you start feeling all nervous again just have another sniff. Just make sure you give it back to Mrs. McKay after, 'k'?"

"Okay," said Kir gratefully. She still had her nose to the jar a few minutes later when Miriam arrived.

* * *

And surprisingly, Kir didn't suck. She didn't fall off the stage, or lose her underwear in the middle of her solo, or forget the lyrics, or any of a hundred other terrible fates she had imagined. She was tempted to credit the magic herb, but privately she figured that she was just due some good luck for a change.

And her mom just smiled and nodded along with the music when she sang 'Impossible Dream', and the applause was pretty decent after, considering that she wasn't related to most of the audience. Like, her mom pretty much _had_ to clap, right? But the rest didn't. Kir curtsied and walked back to her place in the line of girls behind her in a nice warm glow.

She did have a bad moment during the next girl's solo, though, when she imagined her mom's face if she had sung the Aldonza song about all the guys she slept with instead, but she managed to suppress the incipient giggles before anyone noticed.

And then they sang one more group song, something from some French show or something, called 'One Day More,' and then it was over.

There was a general reunion of girls and families, all grinning broadly and hugging. Mrs. McKay had set out coffee and snacks at the other end of the hall, behind all the chairs, and Kir was wandering over for something to drink when she met up with her mom.

"So, honey, how was music camp?" her mom asked with a smile after the obligatory (and not too annoying, this time) hug. "_Did_ I condemn you to a fate worse than death?"

"Well, maybe not _worse_ than death," Kir smiled back. "I guess it was okay."

"Just _okay_? Didn't you have any fun at all? No adventures?" Her mom seemed a bit disappointed.

"Oh em gee, you have _no_ idea. Yeah, I guess I had fun, mostly. And adventures…"

"Well, just so long as you enjoyed it, then." Her mom gave her a one-armed cuddle as they headed over to the snack table.

"Yeah, I guess I did. Did you and Dad have a nice break?"

Her mom laughed. "Oh dear. Your father… Well, let's just say that he _really_ wasn't in any shape to be here today."

"Mom! _Eww_!"

"What? No, no… No, he just went and pulled a muscle. _Dancing_, so don't go '_eww'_ again, kiddo."

"How do you pull a muscle _dancing_? I've _seen_ Dad dance. He doesn't move around that much."

Her mom laughed again. "He was dancing to a Golden Oldie. I won't go into details, but… let's just say, if he ever shouts out, "Hey, Baby, watch _this_!" while he's dancing with _you_, you should probably stand back. And have some ice handy."

It was good to see her mom again, Kir realized; plus, it was really pretty cool to have her tell Kir embarrassing stories about someone else, instead of listening to her telling embarrassing stories about _her_.

So they talked a bit, and packed her stuff up and got it out to the car, and then it was time to say goodbye.

"So, um, any of you guys coming back again next year?" Kir asked. The little group—her, Megan, and The Rationalists—had gathered to one side of the parking area, out of the way of the others scurrying back and forth with armloads of bedding and poorly-packed bags. "I thought I might see if Mom would let me come back again…"

Megan looked at the ground. "No," she said, "No, I don't think I'm going to sing anymore. Maybe I'll concentrate on gymnastics or the gymkhanas—I was kind of spreading myself too thin, anyways." The neck brace had come off that morning. It was still sort of weird to see her without it now.

"Oh. Well, what about the rest of you?"

Sarah and Su exchanged a glance with Randy. "Probably not," said Su. "All this was just a little too weird, you know? I mean, people we know _died_. So no, probably not."

"I don't even think they'll be open next year," added Sarah, looking unhappy. "I think a lot of parents are going to be asking for their money back once they find out about it, you know, even with them saying it was just suicides, and what with all the bad publicity and what…" She trailed off into silence.

"_I'm_ going to go to Paris," Randy said with a grin. "Well, I _hope_ to, anyways… If I save up I can probably afford a month, at least, especially if I stay at a youth hostel."

"I wish _I_ could go to Paris," Kir said, envious. "The shows, the shopping…"

"The research possibilities…"

"The _what_?"

Randy pushed her glasses back up with a grin. "Well, I know for a _fact_ now that Leroux _did_ base his book at _least_ partly on a true story, right? So I want to go over and prove it." Her grin got a little wider. "I might even publish a book. In fact, I think I will—I can always use a vanity press if I can't find someone to buy it. 'Phantom of the Opera: The True Story, by R. Oppenheimer.' Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I'll keep my eyes open for it," Kir promised.

"Heck, I'll blog about it. You on Facebook?" At Kir's nod she continued, "Well, then. Look me up!"

"We're all on Facebook," said Su. "Keep in touch."

"I will!"

"There's my Mom," Megan said suddenly. "Gotta go. Tee tee wuy ell, guys."

They watched her jog across to her mom's waiting arms.

"It's for the best, really," Su said at last.

Randy laughed. "Yeah, I've never seen her ride, but she's _much_ better at gymnastics than she _ever_ was at singing. Even has some medals."

"Then why'd she insist on singing?" Kir asked.

Randy shrugged. "Who knows? Wanted to be good at everything, mom forced her into it… I don't know why she started in on it." She paused, then added, "I guess she wasn't _too_ bad. I mean, okay, she was never cut out for opera, but she could hit the right notes, at least. She might have been okay if she'd stuck to pop."

"She'd have been _fantastic_ at pop," Su said dryly. "She has the personality for it."

"Yeah, I guess." Kir watched as Megan pulled the car door closed. "Shame she said she can't sing anymore without seeing him grabbing her throat. Maybe she _would_ have been famous someday."

"Yeah, she's gonna need therapy," Su said. "God knows _I_ will."

"Hey, Captain!" Kir's mom called, coming over and sweeping her into another hug. "Ready to go? Said all your goodbyes?"

"Yeah, Mom, I guess." Kir smiled. "Hey, this is Su, and Randy, and Sarah."

"Where's Tennille?" asked her mom, returning their grins with a smile.

"Who?"

"You know. That blonde girl."

"You mean Megan?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"She left already. Who the hell is Tennille?"

"You mean you've never heard of the Captain and Tennille?" blurted Randy.

"_Who_?"

"You know. Big '70's music duo. Sang 'Love Will Keep Us Together'? You know? _Just st__op, 'cause I really love you. Stop, I'll be thinking of you. Look in my heart and let looove keep us togeeether_…" She trailed off into an embarrassed silence. "Well, I bet her _Mom_ knows it," she added, defensive.

"Good lord, you really _are_ a student of ancient history, aren't you?" Su said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not _that_ long ago," Kir's mom interjected. "Kirsten's father and I used to dance to this all the time. Besides, they played it in the grocery store last week."

"I rest my case," whispered Su, and Kir giggled.

"Well, I gotta go, guys!" she said. "I'll totally look you all up on FaceBook!" She waved and headed off, as Randy yelled after, "You'd better, or I won't autograph your copy!"

* * *

"So, tell me," her mom said as they bounced down the gravel driveway to the rutted road beyond, "What was it like? Tell me of your adventures. What did you do?"

"Well…" Kir debated skipping over everything and just talking about the classes, but she decided that that would be a really bad idea, if her mom happened to read something about it in the paper or something later. So instead she gave her mom the official story: Two suicides and an injury from a nightmare-induced fall. Ghosts and heavenly voices were not mentioned.

"I'm sorry," her mom said finally, once she'd calmed down a bit. "I should have listened to you. I _should_ have asked you if you wanted to go, and not let you go somewhere so remote and without a phone. When I think what could have happened…"

"Mom." Kir grinned. "It's okay. Actually, I kind of had fun." She snuggled deeper into the car seat and grinned out the window at the power lines.

The End.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, ya caught me: all the chapter titles are Evanescence songs. I do like the one song I've heard, and their website is very artistic, but I'm not particularly a big fan. Not that I dislike them; I'm just not really familiar with their work. I used the song titles for my chapters because I thought it might be neat to use appropriate titles for them, and because Googling a phrase that I sort of wanted to base a title off brought me some Evanescence hits, and then I remembered that the band is a bit of a cliché in certain song!phics, and so… Well, all the titles are Evanescence songs. No, don't read anything into any of them beyond the title itself (unless it ends up that it's really deeply appropriate and you are in awe of my subtle depth, lol, then by all means, yeah, it was on purpose) because frankly, I just Wiki'd them and looked for titles that'd work with my chapters. XD_

"_One Day More" is, of course, from Les Miserables, an excellent musical with a wonderful and stirring soundtrack._

_Oh, okay: I know your morbid curiosity is wondering. He tried to spin around and drop into the splits. To Olivia Newton John's 'Let's Get Physical'. He failed. XD_

_Thank you for reading, and remember, if you were involved enough to make it this far, then please leave me a review! The more reviews I get, the more I end up writing, so it's in your own best interests! ;-) Hope you enjoyed it. :-D ~Kryss_


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